Mega Man X: Demons Of The Past
by Erico
Summary: The fight never ends, and two weeks past the end of TSOM, a new Chronicle is begun...
1. Foreword

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

A FOREWORD

One year ago exactly, on April 20th, 2000 A.D, I undertook a goal I thought was vital...that was to write a Fanfiction story of the travails of Mega Man X and the Maverick Hunters, so that at long last there would be truths into the dark recesses of its unknowns.

I successfully completed that work, and gave it the surname EOAD--short for End Of A Dream. This was followed by AUF, which was more well received than the first. But I'd left a window for myself at EOAD's end, and I saw a new plot ahead of me.

A funny thing of how I write: The main plot is always known to me. The subtleties leak in as I write it, so you can wager that at least 50% of my stories are made on the fly. This sequel was known as TSOM--The Sound Of Mavericks.

Surprisingly, this one took me six months to do. I guess that was because a lot more effort went into it.

So, one year later on my author's anniversary, I continue on. Fresh from TSOM, the events continue.

Life goes on, no matter how meaningless, shallow, or frigid it is. For in the end, all people will find golden rays shining on them. Life is the test, and death is the reward.

But what does this mean to the layman? Not much. What does it mean to the characters known as X, Zero, Bastion, Wycost, Bristol, Hazil, Allegro, J.K. Horn, Doan, Jad…

You get the idea. People face a variety of paths in their life. They choose one, and call it destiny. Sometimes they don't even realize that they're choosing a path when they are…that's why people are naïve. 

The paths that lay before the heroes of 21XX however, are most certainly decided. Their choices have been made.

The Hunters once more know that Sigma is back, and with more than enough hidden bases to keep them on edge for years to come.

A month after being discovered in a Maverick ravaged area of Denver, Colorado, a female reploid by the name of Bristol wanders the earth, searching for her past, knowing only two clues; that there was a thing called MI9, and she was a part of it.

Julius Kinnian Horn, a reploid weapons designer and engineer has seen his dream for world peace, URFAWP, become corrupted by Sigma's twisted objectives. Now the GDC has disbanded it for the threat that it holds, and once more he returns to the drawing board.

There are others in this multifaceted gem into the shattered crystal reality of X's world. But in due time, you shall know them all…

For now, you can only sit and wait, and ease your addiction with a taste of things to come.

The lessons learned in life so short are usually so small,

Measured with a one foot ruler, the dribble of a ball.

The things of life worth living for, the gems of glee and joy,

Come in tiny packages, a wedding ring, a baby boy.

But in the world of the Maverick Hunters, life takes a different shade…

For in their quest to preserve life, other's deaths are made.

It's not a glamorous job at all, and contrary to the glare,

Those who join the Hunters fight, not with joy but empty stare.

But every now and then for them, a glimmer of hope shines diamond bright,

A beacon that restores their spirits, grants new hope and grants new light.

For the Hunter known as Bastion, A.K.A. the Desert Fire,

His glimmer came from a female reploid, one who raised him from the mire.

But now she's gone to seek her past, and the empty hollow restores its brawn.

And the melancholy Bastion waits, for her return, the pinkish dawn.

What is not known to this mighty warrior, temper strong and skills so great,

Is that none of them are in control, for they are puppets to

The Strings of Fate.

-Erico


	2. Prologue

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

PROLOGUE

"Two weeks…" She said wistfully. Staring through the hot vapor of her coffee mug, she looked out of the glass window across the street. Her light blue overcoat draped off of her shoulders, and underneath it was a simple ensemble of a blue shirt and khakis. Her blond hair, traced with just a hint of pink highlights dangled behind her head, not a strand looking out of place. Only her eyes betrayed the emotions within her.

She was sad, confused, and feeling incredibly out of it. Like the entire world had shifted into a different shade of reality, just enough to be noticed, while she was stuck in the traditional mode.

Of course, she had been questioning reality lately. After all, what she thought was reality had been shattered. That kind of occurrence does little to leave one optimistic and trusting. 

Her fingers were slim and delicate as they grasped around the handle of the ceramic container of hot liquid. Combined with her unusual thinness, she looked as if a gust of wind would blow her off her feet.

Sadly, that was wrong. It would take a hurricane to even unsettle her traction, and the dainty long fingers hid the fact that they could crumble a medium sized skipping stone into gravel.

Of course, this would be impossible for a human. But then again, this woman was not human.

She was a reploid. Like a good number of others in the world, she was the ultimate step between man and machine yet seen. The mind's circuitry of a human, allowing for adaptation, memorization, and most stunning--emotion--combined with superpowerful robotics technology.

Currently, she was at a café in Denver. She had arrived here two weeks ago, searching for some indication to her past.

A month and two weeks ago, the Maverick Hunters Zero and Bastion, along with a joint Strike Unit, had come here to stop a band of self-induced Mavericks who had gotten into a military weapons stockpile. 

At the end of that struggle, they had found her in the rubbled wreckage of the town's outskirts. She was battered, bruised, scuffed, jarred, and torn up every other way one could think of. Even more damaging than the physical blows was a realization she had found when the Maverick Hunter's Medical Officer known as Hazil reactivated her out of stasis…

Bristol's memory had been completely wiped. Memory wiping was nothing new for reploids, but never without a good reason. Every reploid who had had their memories wiped was given a record that was broadcast all over the world…Reasons for wiping ranged from disobeying the law in some extreme measure, to killing a person by accident.

Killing a human outright brought one complete death. The destruction of that reploid's Control Chip, the very thing that made them them.

A smaller punishment, memory wiping, was just as severe to a reploid. After all, without knowledge of your past, you really do lose who you are.

Bristol sipped on her dark black drink again.

Another possible cause for a loss of memory in reploids was being rebuilt. But seeing as she was in such a state of disarray, and not discovered in some lab of a kind, that eliminated that. Reconstruction also didn't completely wipe your mind…just the little details.

So that left one final cause. Intense trauma. Emotional, or physical that blew a few circuits in her head. Of course, considering the damage that was likely.

Who knows what kind of Hell she had gone through on that Maverick attack a month and a half ago? Undoubtedly, considering the shape she'd been found in, it had been a terrible struggle.

Bristol sipped down the rest of the mug and placed it down on the table. Within moments, a young human male waiter came by carrying a container of more hot brew.

"Need a refill, miss?" The sandy blond asked with a smile. Bristol smiled back weakly, shaking her head.

"No, I'm all right. How much does it come to?" The waiter put down a charge machine and punched in the TOTAL button. The number flashed on the screen.

"It comes to a dollar thirty five." Bristol nodded. Less than two bucks for something that warmed her up and fought off the chill from the night before. 

She calmly pulled out the account card of J.K. Horn and slid it through the machine. When it beeped for a password, Bristol calmly punched in the proper identification, the full name of her monetary provider;

Julius Kinnian. The small tabulator beeped a happy chord and flashed a green light. Bristol put the account card back in her coat's pocket, noting with all seriousness that the pocket zipped itself shut over the precious cargo…

For there was something else in that pocket besides the account card that she had no intention of losing all the way out here.

An engraved silver locket, round as a stone and weighty at three pounds. Its chain was strong enough to resist wear and rust, yet not too fancy. But that was just the outside.

It was what laid inside the locket she kept safe.

The waiter pulled his pocket sized pay machine from the table and smiled at Bristol one last time.

"Thanks for the tip!" Bristol shrugged. So she'd paid an extra ten bucks on the bill. It kept him happy, and she was in somewhat of a good mood after that java.

Bristol picked herself up from the table in the café and walked out of the door, once more surrounded by the sounds of the streets. She flipped her head back one last time to push her hair back, then put her right hand into her pocket. Her left one she let dangle and sway as she walked along.

She was going to hit the road again, it seemed. The search here in Denver had turned up nothing. She was not made here, she didn't live here, and she didn't work here. However she had come to be at Denver when the Mavericks struck was totally beyond all logical sense of reason.

Therefore, her next place of visitation would be Washington D.C.

Perhaps the home of Emilius Cristoph, the now deceased emissary of the AmeriCanadian Alliance would turn up something.

After all, it had been in "Sigma's Sixth" that Bristol had met with the man in his final moments of life. In Washington D.C. itself, actually. She shook her head, feeling the ominous cloud settle over her.

That cloud was a sense of Bristol's muddled past. There had been only glimpses of it…nothing definitive. She couldn't even remember the details. So far, all she had been privy to was pictures of herself and Emilius Cristoph. 

He most definitely had known her from before. And even though he was dead, Emilius Cristoph had been an influential man, and had left a large wake in his life and even in his death. Somewhere within all his wanderings, she would almost HAVE to find some indication of where her past and his intersected.

She had an inkling that it had to do with MI9, a name Cristoph had gasped just before giving out to his wounds. But she'd already run net-searches on every search engine within her grasp on that name, and turned up nothing. She was looking down a tunnel of fluorescence and shining a flashlight--in other words, using an obvious method to a glaring puzzler.

And the obvious methods had failed. 

Now Bristol knew only diligent detective work would crack her case. 

Until she did, she could never be complete. The can of worms had been partially opened--

She had to rip the lid off of it before it exploded. 

Bristol knew all too well what she had left behind to do this. But she also knew this was necessary. If she didn't do this, it would eventually drive her mad.

She had to stay sane--whole--for the picture of the man inside her silver locket.

Her left hand clutched at the sealed pocket in her coat, and her eyes dimmed for a moment. The icy grip of fear and madness fell away from her as the image inside of her locket restored calm to her mind.

"Stay with me, Bastion…" Bristol whispered softly. She drew her arms in tighter to her body, like it had grown chilly. Which was impossible--

It was June. 

Her eyes regained their clarity, and she lifted her head back up. It was a bit of a walk to the bus stop that would take her to the airport…

Long walks allowed her time to straighten things out.

And for Bristol, one lost reploid in a world where madness had restored itself…

The road was as crooked as it could get.


	3. Time's Tedium

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER ONE: TIME'S TEDIUM

Cain grasped at his head again, wincing as the throbbing pain racked into him. 

"Aah, cripes." He muttered under his breath, reaching into his desk and pulling out a heavy dose of aspirin and a bottle of water. Downing both with a fluid motion that spoke of numerous other occurrences like this one, Cain lay back in his comfortable fake leather chair and stared up at the ceiling of his office.

He should have known better than to try and do all these reports. That's what newbies were for, after all…but Cain felt he needed to. After all, he had no direct control over the Hunters anymore. The Unit Commanders were in place, well dedicated to their roles, and kept the place in line.

He was just the aging father figure. And aging, indeed. Cain had passed his 80th birthday a while back. His bald head seemed to mismatch the long whiskered beard he had, and in a blatant snuffing of fashion sense, Cain kept himself clothed in a long blue cloak with red and black trimmings. It draped off of his frail arms, and dangled loosely from his waist. That's why he wore a belt with it.

In some ways, it was like a kimono--but there were no flower designs on it. Just the colors. 

Cain waited a few moments. He didn't really expect the aspirin to help his monstrous headache, and recently they'd been getting so chronic that he'd begun to call them migraines. Of course, considering the hell he lived in, it was a small wonder he didn't have hypertension, high blood pressure, osteoporosis, ulcers, and liver spots to boot. 

Cain's wrinkled hands reached over and picked up the datapadd of recent Hunter evaluation reports. His eyes finally dimmed out as he saw how many he still had left to do.

"Frack it." Cain muttered, letting the thing clatter back on his desk. He punched his desk's comm switch and brought up the signal for Hazil. "Hazil, get in here for a sec." The response was quick and decisive.

"Aside from my better judgement, all right boss." Hazil's voice was gruffish and filled with a tone of annoyance.

Of course, it was ten at night. That was when the reploid usually cleaned his medical gear and went over to get plastered with Zero every third cycle. 

There were so many patterns that went on at the HQ, Cain couldn't keep track of them all. Hunters had training schedules, there was the constant cycle of upgrades, funerals, and promotions…

It all seemed so shallow to him. Of course, for how long now had he been doing this? Being the old man in charge of the whole shebang, and supplying the money for it? His patents on reploids raked in the dough…money he used to keep the Hunters in working order.

His feeble mind snapped back to reality as his door opened up. Cain looked over through his bloodshot eyes to see Hazil calmly walking--and not rolling in. It had been a while since Hazil had received his leg upgrade from the clunky wheel base Cain was so familiar seeing him with. A short tally of weeks. Of course, a lot had happened in those weeks.

Sigma had returned, for one. Emilius Cristoph had bitten the dust. Bristol AND Wycost had both packed their bags and set up to wander the earth. Bastion had turned into a shallow shadow of the great Hunter he once was--Bristol's departure had completely shattered him.

X was also in the dumps, because not only did he have to deal with the fact Sigma was still there to haunt him, but also because his treasured armor sets were fading. Eventually, all of them, nothing more than data in the Hunter's Main Computer Database, would degrade beyond usefulness. That would severely hinder his ability to perform as a Hunter.

About the only good piece of news was that one J.K. Horn and his young, once rebellious protégé Allegro were now diligently at work making equipment for the Hunters. What exactly, he had no idea. But it had to be something good…

"Cain, you all right? You look a little spaced out…" Hazil said. The aging human blinked for a few moments, and then looked up with his tired eyes.

"Hazil, I don't think I can handle these reports." Hazil grunted for a moment.

"Cain, I've told you before that those things are too much for you. The eyestrain, the carpal tunnel syndrome, camaahn! Take doctor's orders for once--which considering what you just said, is surprisingly what you're doing." 

Cain sat back in his seat, smiling weakly as he put a hand up to his head.

"Yes, yes…I guess I'm just trying to be useful." Hazil pursed his lips together.

"Believe me Cain, you're PLENTY useful. You're the guy we all look up to here…without you, the Hunters are missing a vital part of themselves." Cain shook his head.

"Zero and X are the strongest role models here, and you know that." Hazil slapped a hand to his wrist.

"Fine! Then you're the most outspoken pro-reploid individual we know! Without you, the reploids would have long ago ceased to exist, you know? Whether you like it or not, the WORLD is influenced by you." Cain shrugged.

"I suppose…" Cain's voice trailed off as he winced and put a hand up to his head. Hazil frowned.

"Those headaches again?" Cain nodded.

"Fourth one today…and I've already taken as much aspirin as I can." Hazil bared his teeth, then blew out a breath of exasperation.

"That's not good, Cain. I know your checkup isn't for another week, but this problem of yours is getting to be chronic. I'd like to check in on it soon." Hazil pulled a datapadd out of his large boxlike chest compartment and activated his schedule. "Cain, I can pencil you in…two days from now, 2 in the afternoon. That work for you?" Cain lifted his hands in surrender.

"What else is an ailing man to do?" Hazil scratched his gray head and put the calendar back in his chest compartment, shutting it again.

"Stop being so defeatist. You're only eighty years old…humans can live well beyond one hundred anymore. You still have a good many cycles left to you." Cain snorted, his dimming eyes growing wet.

"Yes…more years of this. Sigma threatening the world's destruction, the Maverick Virus wreaking havoc, and me leading a force that should have long ago finished its job." Cain laughed bitterly, slapping a palm to his desk. "Oh my, we'll all be having a ball then."

Hazil sighed. There was no use arguing with Cain now. He was absorbed in his own shell, and nothing could pull him out of it. Staying around any longer might push Hazil into it as well.

"I'll see you then, Cain. Now I want you to go get some sack time and take it easy for the next two days--doctor's orders. I'll have some of the newbies sort out the reports." 

"Thanks, Hazil." Cain said wearily. His gnarled right hand reached over and grasped the wooden shaft laying against his desk, easing himself up to his feet and slowly hobbling along until he walked out of his office door.

Hazil folded his arms and leaned against a wall of the blue-lit room with its large window to Tokyo's night lights. 

His calm, professional eyes had been honed through years of service to identify medical problems, from Buster wounds to internal bleeding and extreme trauma.

But they'd also attained the ability to pick up moods and attitudes. Hazil had been with the Hunters since they were created, for he came in on the same ride as Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill. All three of them had come from the British Royal Air Force, Storm a warrior, Spark a mechanic, and Hazil a field medic. A damned good field medic.

And in all the time that those long years of service had brought, Hazil had seen every mood in James Cain a human possessed.

Anger. Joy. Exhilaration. Sadness. 

But never depression. 

James Cain, a paleontologist, amateur robotics designer, and assigned leader of the Maverick Hunters based in Tokyo, Japan, had never once in his life held depression in his many moods. 

That depression came now because he felt his role in the Hunters was nothing more than uselessness. Hazil chirped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, brushing back his gray hair again.

"Cain, for once I think Sigma's finally managed to defeat you." Hazil glared and picked himself up, walking out the door.

He froze outside in the hallway, watching the once great man known as James Cain hobble down the corridor, his back hunched over and his head bowed down as if a club had struck it. It tore at Hazil to see Cain like this.

Cain had never surrendered. Not even when the MHHQ itself had been ravaged by the Maverick attacks. NEVER.

But now, it seemed, he had given up. If not on the Hunters, on himself.

"And Sigma did it the worst way he could, Cain. He didn't kill you outright, he did it slowly." Hazil mused to himself that this process had taken years. But the events of "Sigma's Sixth" two weeks ago had clinched it. "He made you lose hope in the cause."

Hazil's voice was so soft, the elderly Cain never heard him. Even if he could have, he wouldn't have responded.

His head--and his heart--were both aching.

In the bustling port of Hong Kong, people swarmed all over. Most needed to get someplace, and the night sky seemed to fade in the blazing flourescents.

One figure in particular walked the darker alleyways of this mobius, calmly going about with a mission.

He also wanted to keep to himself. As far as the leather jacketed individual cared, the rest of the world could just pass him by. He had a very specific goal, and he didn't need people getting in his way. Avoiding the main streets allowed him that role.

Some people walking by blinked in confusion, wondering why this individual was wearing dark black sunglasses at night.

The truth was, he could see fine with them on.

After all, their functions ranged from blocking high intensity light to infared and X-Ray scanning.

His footsteps grew louder as he walked into the darker corners of the bustling metropolis, having finally decided it was time to seek a place to get some shut eye. He was on a limited budget, and the hotels here were too expensive.

He was here for information, and that cost more than a room did.

But an odd noise caught his ultrasensitive ears as the honking horns and steaming vents began to fade away into the night's maw. The figure turned his head, narrowing his eyes in a scrutinizing gaze.

Just as he had thought. A scuffle in the streets. From the sound of it...

One woman...And one...no wait, TWO men.

Language, a very frightened Chinese dialect.

"Great..." The being muttered under his breath. He couldn't walk away.

After all, a part of his penance was protecting life. So he sighed, heaving his shoulders up for a moment. He slipped his hands out of his jacket, priming them at his sides.

Gleaming glints of polished metal shone underneath the dark sleeves, betraying a part of his secret.

The figure sped up his pace, calmly approaching the epicenter of the conflagration as if he was a lost tourist. Sure enough, his ears hadn't betrayed him.

One of the men however, was a reploid. The flimsy armor gave him away.

"Hey...Am I intruding on something here?" The leather jacketed individual asked, brushing back his shiny black hair.

The woman was terrified, the man pointing a menacing pistol at her and reaching for her purse. The semi-biker's appearance broke the mugging's eerie cloud.

The reploid and the male human turned to face him, glaring menacingly. The reploid, his armor colored a fuschia purple with silver trimmings waved his hand in the air as if to warn the intruder away.

"None of your business, Mack. Shove off!" The jacketed sunglass wearing being seemed to ponder the idea for a moment, then nonchalantly shrugged.

"Well, it seems like you two gentlemen are trying to forcefully relieve this defenseless woman of her wallet...as far as I'm concerned, that MAKES it my business." His calm voice had an icy undertone to it that sent shivers down even the reploid's spine.

The man, Asian most definitely glared and pointed his gun at the brash black haired fool in front of them. In guttural and drunken Chinese, he sent his retort:

"Leave now or die!" The jacketed figure raised his arms up as if to surrender, but his mouth was still firm and glaring.

"I don't think so, Buster. Just put the gun down before someone gets hurt..." The sunglass wearing man replied.

The reploid snorted, his snarling disgust becoming all too evident.

"Hey man, just shoot him!" The Chinese man chuckled for a moment and pulled back the hammer of the pistol.

"Not a bad idea." The eyes of the Chinese Man and the impetuous would-be-savior met for a moment, their eyes calmly acknowledging each other.

Then the Chinese man laughed in what could be glee, and pulled the trigger.

A bullet, flying at the speed of sound itself blew its way from the gun's barrel, flying straight and true for the fool's chest. The black haired man shook his head for a moment, even as the bullet drew closer and closer to ending his life.

Then in a blur of movement, his left hand shot out, turning the wrist to face the approaching hot metal.

In the unmistakable sound of a ricochet of metal meeting metal, the bullet was deflected easily.

The man's right hand flew up in a similar burst of speed, seeming to quiver and distort for what seemed only the blink of an eye. In a second, the reploid and the Chinese Man's eyes flew open wide in surprise.

This person who had dared to risk his life to save this woman's purse, not to mention her life...

"He's not a man..." The reploid gaped, looking like a fish out of water as his mouth flapped open. The Chinese Man's arm began to quiver, threatening to drop the gun. 

For what they were staring into was a much bigger gun.

An X-Buster.

The Buster toting, sunglass wearing savior shook his head in disgust at them.

"I warned you two to put it down before someone got hurt, didn't I?" He stiffened his stance, propping his left arm underneath the Buster for support. "This is a Modified Mark 18 X-Buster." The man...reploid with black hair said.

"It has the ability to reach a level four charge with a plasma shot equivalent to a medium sized bomb. It has two special weapons, a Homing Explosive called the Narwhal Striker, and an optical nerve disabler known as the Strobe Flash." He lifted the bulbous mass of metal at the end of his arm for emphasis, so that the two attackers could clearly see the transparent crystal ovals ingrained in the metal's framework, containing the datanodes for the weapon. "So I will ask you again, sir." This time, there was a very stern and menacing tone to the person's voice.

"Put the gun down...before someone gets hurt." The Chinese Man obliged, dropping the gun as if it was on fire.

The leather jacketed figure swung his Buster arm towards an open pathway for them. "GO."

The two attackers fled without so much as a peep.

The reploid in the leather jacket sighed, glad that the standoff was over with. He'd seen too many years of this type of thing, and it was wearing him down. He unclenched his fist, letting the Buster shift back into his arm, and with a second thought, off of his arm completely and into his warp generator's memory banks.

His right hand reached up and brushed back a strand of black hair that was over his eyes. He looked over to the woman, who was shakingly picking herself up from the street, clutching her purse tightly.

"Are you all right?" He asked, in fluent Chinese. The woman took in a ragged breath and nodded.

"Thank you." She said, still amazed anyone had come to help her. "Thank you...What is your name?"

The black haired reploid shrugged.

"It's Wycost...Not like that matters. I heard your cries for help." The woman nodded, smiling.

"Well, Wycost...is there anything I can do to help you? Some money, perhaps?" Wycost shrugged again.

"I really don't have much use for it...Hotels cost too much." The woman frowned.

"You mean you sleep out on the streets?" Wycost nodded slowly.

"It's not that bad, really." The woman planted a hand to her hip and gave a curling half smile.

"You will not do that tonight. Come! You will spend the night at my apartment. It has been so long since the children have had any company..."

Wycost smiled back a bit.

"Are you sure, miss?"

"Positive. And the name is Tia Xiang."

"Tia, eh?" Wycost mused, rubbing his stubbled chin. "So, how far are we from your place?"

"Not far...not far." The woman replied. She slung the purse on her shoulder, scrutinizing Wycost with eyes that held a sense of wisdom in them. "I can perceive that you are on a quest, of some sort."

Wycost raised his eyebrows, nodding his head. That surprised him. Tia smiled.

"It runs in the family...We're seers. Come! A warm bed and a hot meal await you. It is the least I can do for you." Wycost resumed his walk, joining at Tia's side as they proceeded to meander to a busier street.

"What else can you see with that prophecy power of yours?" Wycost asked, looking down at Tia for a moment. The Chinese woman smiled weakly.

"Enough...enough, perhaps to help lead you to your next destination in the search for your friend's lover." Wycost almost stopped walking.

"Geez..." He said in awe. "That's dead accurate! You'd put those phone psychics to shame with a skill like that." Tia chuckled softly for a moment, shaking her head.

"True psychics don't need to make money off of it. That's what corrupts their power."

Sunlight seemed to continually beat down upon the tropical island paradise just off of Fiji. Of course, considering that it was just getting to summer, that was to be expected--along with the usual rain storms.

Partially hidden by the foliage of palm variety treeborgs, an incredibly beautiful two story house, with an equally attractive patio with ceramic tiling lay, basking in the sunlight and seeming not to have a care in the world. Birds chirped merrily, their feathers glittering in all the colors of the rainbow against the goldenrod sand and the aquamarine surf.

Then, a low rumbling noise disturbed the calm noises of the sea. The calm salty breeze seemed to stop for a moment as the cascading vibrations grew louder.

The lower right hand windows of the house on the small island blew open with the shattering of glass, allowing a rush of hot smoke and a brief burst of flame to pull themselves free. 

The gathering of the birds in the treeborg's leaves cawed out in surprise, taking to the air and flying away to avoid the fast rising cloud of hot dark colored air that belched its way free of the house's interior. 

Finally, the noises of the sea restored themselves and the disruption ceased. Outside, at least.

Inside, a pair of figures dazedly stumbled outside the side door from the room whose windows had just blown out. They were both completely sooty, the explosion having enveloped them both.

One of them seemed to have gray hair underneath the charred, blackened mass of fibers on top of his head. Calmly he dug into his pants pocket and removed a handkerchief, then proceeded to take his glasses off and clean them. He spoke up, letting his voice carry over to his companion.

"Obviously, we need to improve the safeties on that new jetpack design." The other one, looking a young twenty to the other's sixty five, snorted for a moment before rubbing the soot out of his own eyes.

"The safeties? Horn, that whole damn thing's a bomb waiting to go off!"

"Suggestions, Mr. Allegro?" The younger man shrugged, finally blinking the last bits of the explosion out of his eyes.

"For one, scrap the project. Next, work on something that won't turn us into chimney sweepers." 

Julius Kinnian Horn nodded, twisting his mouth up in a half smile.

"Then you're learning. Sometimes it's best to cut your losses and move on, and such is the case of this time."

"Waiitaminute--" Allegro said warily, raising a finger to his head. "Was this a setup?" Horn snorted for a minute in surprise.

"Yahweh, no! It's just an experiment of ours that holds a lesson you can learn from." Allegro sighed.

"Whatever. Come on. Let's get cleaned up and grab lunch."

"Egg salad or teriyaki chicken?" Horn asked calmly. Allegro thought for a moment.

"Teriyaki. Hold on, I'll be right back…" In a flash of light, Allegro's lower legs vanished into a pair of thick boots of blue and yellow. He began to run towards the pool close by, then jumped up into the air.

His boots released a powerful blast of thruster fuel, pushing him even higher up into his arc.

Horn watched, transfixed as the blazing sun above glared off of the odd combination of metal and flesh. 

Allegro let out a loud cry, then splashed down into the still water with a resounding 'kerploosh' and releasing a circular wave five feet high. 

Julius Kinnian Horn gaped for a moment at the wave of water approaching him, and barely had time to lift his hands up before it crashed down upon him. As the water finally settled down, the dripping wet scientist noted that at least he was cleaned off.

An explosion of the magnitude they had faced inside that cramped room would have killed humans. 

Then again, Julius Kinnian Horn and his assistant Allegro were reploids. The rules didn't apply to them as much.

Allegro surfaced, grinning from ear to ear as his sandy short hair dripped down across his eyes. He pushed it aside and nodded.

"Once again, nice pool Horn!" The aging reploid scientist let out a sigh of defeat.

"Come on. Let's fire up that Teriyaki already before I regret bringing you in on this."

They walked back into the house through the french double doors that led to their airy and white colored kitchen. They really didn't need to eat, but it was just something they did to feel more human.

Which in reality, is what they were. In their minds, at least. Only the body was different. 

"So tell me Jules…" Allegro began, cracking open the freezer and pulling out a bag of stir fry vegetables. The elderly reploid winced at the mispronunciation of his name, but didn't speak up. "When do we need to have something into the Hunters?" Horn smiled.

"That's the best part of this. We're not on a deadline. We can take our time to put together the best project for them. An improved Mech, a faster Landchaser, a better energy shield…it's all up to us. Cain's given us the Carte Blanche--do whatever we need to, but do it well." Allegro grunted, dropping the frozen veggies on the kitchen's counter and reaching for a towel to dry his hair off.

"Kooshy deal. Have you heard back from them lately?" Cain shrugged.

"No…they seem to be pretty preoccupied."

"What about that Bastion fella?" Allegro asked pointedly. Horn froze up for a moment, then relaxed the tension in his shoulders. He looked at Allegro with relief.

"The Desert Fire? Bristol's departure seems to have left him without his warrior's spirit. The best part of it I guess, is that he won't be coming after ME. After all, I'm the only person who ever survived one of his attacks--Jihad or Hunter." Allegro blinked.

"I've been noticing that our account balance has been dropping lately. Any connection?" Horn nodded, rubbing his chin for a moment.

"As a matter of fact, I provided Bastion's love Bristol with my account card. I suppose you could say I'm footing the bill for her soul-searching." Allegro leaned up against the counter and folded his arms. 

"Any specific reason?" Horn chuckled, looking at his fiesty young follower.

"You mean, do I hold feelings for her?" Allegro nodded. Horn grinned, a saintly twinkle in his eye.

"I think of it more as a Kris Kringle view. I'm giving her what she wants. Besides, I'm an old man. What am I going to do with all that money? Build another house on another tropical island?" Horn snorted again. "Unlikely. Besides, Bastion may not know it, but it makes me feel good anyway. Those Hunters, him included are facing Hell itself in their struggle. The least I can do is make one of their close friends safe on her trip."

Allegro picked himself back up and tore the bag open. Horn handed over a wok, and lit the electric stove's range. 

"Shall I mix in some extra hoisin?" Allegro said gently. Horn laughed softly.

"Why, of course. A little change now and then is a healthy thing."

"Children? Mommy's home!" Tia sang out as she opened the door to her apartment. Two young children ran out from the main living room, their eyes wide.

"Mommy! Mommy!" They called out happily. The Asian woman smiled widely and knelt down, her children crashing into her arms and hugging her tightly.

"Aaaw…did you two miss me?" The young boy looked up, sniffling a bit.

"Where were you, mommy? You're later than usual." Tia shook her head and brushed his bangs back from his eyes.

"Mommy ran into some trouble on the way home…some bad men wanted to take her money." The girl with her gasped.

"Mommy got hurt?" Tia Xiang shook her head.

"No, no. Mommy didn't get hurt. Mommy found a nice man who told the bad men to go away!" 

"A nice man?" The girl sniffled. Tia nodded, then motioned behind her. Slowly, the stocky figure of a sunglass wearing black haired man filled their doorway, and Tia smiled.

"This is Wycost." The mother and her two children walked into their apartment, then Wycost stepped in. He brushed his hair back and waved weakly, smiling a bit.

"Hello." He said, using their own native tongue. The children stepped forth from their mother's embrace, frowning a bit. Tia motioned to them.

"Kwai and Lon, my angels." Wycost kneeled down and looked at them for a moment, gazing into them with a gaze that on the outside was icy, but inside was interest. The boy, Lon stepped forth and frowned.

"You look weird, Mister Wycost." Wycost drew his head back, raising his eyebrows above the rim of his goggles in feigned shock.

"Oh? Why am I weird?" Lon pointed.

"Your eyes…I can't see your eyes!" Wycost chuckled a bit and took them off, holding the high quality goggles gingerly with his fingers. His brown eyes exposed, Wycost let them take on a bit of a sparkle.

He'd never understood why, but children always made him smile. 

"Is that better, Lon?" Wycost responded in a lighthearted voice. Lon clapped his hands and nodded with a grin. Tia yawned and stretched out her hands, then looked to the clock. She frowned.

"Oh no…I have to get dinner ready." She turned back to Wycost with a pleading stare. "I may be overstepping my bounds here, Wycost, but can you keep an eye on these two while I prepare the noodles?" Wycost blinked in surprise.

"You'd trust me with them?" Tia smiled again, shaking her head while her dimpled cheeks expanded out. She folded her arms and leaned on a wall.

"Wycost, you saved my life, and you're on a quest to save another. I trust you wholeheartedly." Tia smiled a bit and shook her head. "Funny…you even look like my husband. He was like you too." Tia shook her head and turned around.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. And their favorite book is by the couch, if they want you to read it." Wycost blinked again, smiling smugly.

"Read a book, eh? I could probably do that." Kwai tugged on his jacket sleeve and motioned over to the couch.

"Mister Wycost, can you read us the story?" Wycost shrugged. Something felt right about doing that, so he followed obediently as the two children tugged him over to the couch. Wycost picked them both up easily with his hands, scooping them up like ancient vases, and placing them down on opposite sides of him on the couch. The two squealed in delight and Lon clapped his hands.

"Again! Again!" Wycost laughed for a moment and shook his head. He took his leather jacket off, feeling that the gruffish apparel didn't belong here. Comfortably sitting in his green T-Shirt, Wycost waited. Sure enough, Kwai handed him the book laying on the lamp's desk. Wycost blinked at it a few times, then smiled.

"Collected Fairy Tale Rhymes." Wycost opened it up, then scanned the contents. He looked at Kwai with that genuine Santa Claus twinkle and pointed to the list. "Which one do you want me to read first?" Lon pointed eagerly with his small chubby finger to one song, and Kwai voiced it.

"Owl and the Pussycat! Owl and the Pussycat!" Wycost smiled so broadly it surprised himself, but through it he thumbed ahead to the right page and began to read what he saw.

"I may be a little off with this. I've never…read a poem before." Wycost shrugged and looked down the script, scanning the language and interpreting it.

"The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat...The took some money and plenty of honey, wrapped up in a five pound note..." 

Lon and Kwai leaned up against him, nestling into his arm, their hands falling down onto his sturdy legs, closing their eyes, drifting away with wide smiles as they shut out everything but the sound of his voice.

Wycost smiled for a moment, then shook his head with contentment. It felt so right to be surrounded by them like this. 

"The owl looked up to the stars above and sang to a small guitar…Oh lovely pussy, oh pussy my love, what a lovely pussy you are, you are, what a lovely pussy you are." 

Wycost's voice was clear and collected, carrying out through the calm apartment. In the kitchen, Tia Xiang boiled water, rubbing her hands on a cloth towel and watching with a calm smile.

_He's so much like my husband…No wonder the children aren't afraid of him._

In that apartment at that time, it did indeed look like a family was settling down for a quiet evening.

Happy times were closer than most thought.

"Mmmph…" Lon mumbled, shutting his eyes again. Squirming a bit underneath his blankets, the boy soon fell asleep. 

Wycost brushed a bit of hair out of the young child's eyes before picking himself up from the chair next to Lon's bed and walking out. He flipped the light off, noticing that a Night Light turned on immediately. Wycost smiled again and shut the door quietly behind him.

He found Tia out in the kitchen, putting the dishes away. Wycost gave her a thumbs up.

"Both the kids are in bed." Tia shook her head wryly, her eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"You've been so much of a help to me…and I haven't forgotten my end of the bargain." Tia placed the final dish away and shut the cabinet, then wiped her hands dry and motioned to the living room.

Wycost faithfully trotted after her, slinging his black leather jacket over his shoulder. His glasses were tucked in his shirt pocket, and for once Wycost looked happy.

Like Isaiah was near. Tia sat down on the reclining chair and Wycost chose the couch. Tia shut her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting her unusual foresight reach out to try and grasp onto the image of Bristol Wycost's mind produced.

She found it. Tia's eyes flashed open in a blaze of fire, and she smiled.

"I think I've found her. I don't suppose you know where a place called Denver, Colorado is?" Wycost nodded.

"It's in the U.S." Tia folded her small arms and placed them in her lap.

"Then there you go. That's where you need to leave for next to find her." Tia's eyes narrowed.

"She isn't yours, is she? Her heart belongs to someone else--Bastion." Wycost touched his forehead with his index finger and grinned wryly.

"I'll have to watch what I think around you, Miss Xiang."

"Tia." The young woman said plaintively. Wycost shrugged.

"Very well. So now what?" Tia smiled.

"Oh, stay the night. The couch folds out into a bed, and I'll bring in some extra blankets." Wycost frowned.

"I don't know…if Bristol is there, I should keep going." Tia bowed her head and dropped the smile.

"So you're leaving…like Kwan." Wycost's ears perked up.

"Excuse me? Who's Kwan?" Tia lifted her head again, now looking saddened.

"Kwan was my husband…their father. That's why they aren't afraid of you. You look just like him, save for the fact you're not Asian. Kwan was." Wycost's eyes dimmed out.

"Was he killed?" Tia shook her head.

"Not quite as clear cut. He left us." Wycost blinked in disbelief.

"He left you?! Why would he want to leave this?" 

"Why do you feel the need to keep going? Why do YOU want to leave us?" Tia asked bitterly. 

Wycost leaned back in the couch and shut his eyes.

"Good point." Silence echoes between them for moments.

Long, infinite moments. Tia finally stood up.

"You'd best be going then. As much as it saddens me, your involvement with us is minimal. You have a goal to accomplish, a goal that takes precedence over your rescue tonight." Wycost stood up, feeling slightly like a zombie.

"I suppose so." Wycost put his jacket back on, then slipped his glasses over his eyes. He turned to the apartment's door, then stopped in midstep. He turned back around and looked at Tia.

"Hey, what's your phone number?" Tia blinked. "Tia, I'm serious. Those two kids--I seriously do care for them. And you. If I can call them every now and then, it'll be a good thing." Tia smiled at the idea.

"Sounds good to me. Hold on, I'll go and grab a slip of paper for you." Tia walked into the kitchen, then walked out, scribbling furiously on the back of a thin cardboard calling card. She handed it to Wycost, who scanned over it quickly, then slipped it in his jacket pocket.

"Thanks, Tia. I'll call as often as I can." Tia fidgeted for a moment, then looked up nervously.

"One more thing, Wycost." Wycost nodded slowly.

"Yes?" Tia reached up and planted a kiss on his lips. Stunned, Wycost waited until she had pulled off. Tia shrugged and smiled faintly.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you're a human or a reploid. The simple truth is you're a man…a man who cares for others. That makes you better than most. And no matter where you go, you'll always have an open door and us waiting for you." Tia shrugged. "I may just be wishing, but everyone needs a home to return to." Wycost reached over and caressed Tia's cheek, then lightly planted a kiss of his own on her forehead.

"Once again, I thank you, Tia Xiang. Never lose that spark of yourself. And I will call. I will call." Wycost gave the Asian woman a gentle hug, then opened the apartment's door and walked out, shutting it behind him.

Walking out the complex's bottom door, Wycost once more trodded on the streets, heading for the airport, and a plane ticket to the U.S.

He chuckled softly, rubbing his lips with his left hand.

"These humans are gonna be the death of me--or they'll give me back life yet."

Wycost whistled as he walked along.

It just felt right.


	4. Forsaken Angels

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER TWO: FORSAKEN ANGELS

Bastion woke up slowly. He didn't know where he was, and for a few brief moments, even WHO he was.

But then his brain caught up to him. And the truth crashed down on him like it did every morning. He covered his deep blue eyes with his hands, taking in a breath.

Should he bother to get up this morning? Should he just lie there uselessly, like he did yesterday? 

"I don't know…I just don't know anymore…" Bastion groaned. It had been two weeks and two days since Bristol had walked out of his life.

And taken his heart with her. He'd been sluggish ever since then, moody and depressed, totally lacking the fire that kept him going. Every night, he found it next to impossible to sleep. Every morning, a struggle to wake up.

"No matter what anyone says…It's hard to sleep alone after you've been with someone." Bastion sniffed raggedly. "There's just something about a warm body pressed up against you…" Bastion's hand reached over, caressed the side of the bed that Bristol had occupied on that one occasion.

Never again. Bastion shut his eyes, squeezing out the droplets of tears that fell from them onto his pillow. His angel had left him.

And left only a few feathers. 

By some miracle, Bastion picked himself out of his bed and rocked unsteadily to his feet. He didn't want to. But as a Commander, he was required to keep a track on his Unit. 

And that meant training them. Even if Jad, Kol, and Gavin could keep tabs on them, newcomers though they were, Bastion felt the time was not right to cut himself loose from the flock yet. 

His clothes were disheveled, unwashed and rumpled by the sleepless nights he had existed in for so long. As far as Bastion was concerned, they'd stay that way. But it wasn't proper attire for what he needed to do. He primed his arms at his side, clenching his fists up as he activated his internal warp generator.

In a flash of light, the brown haired reploid, a Maverick Hunter who lived at base in New Tokyo was once more clad in the orange and red armor that distinguished him from all others. He was, after all, as burning as the fiery colors that were his dress.

He was The Desert Fire.

Or was at least. Now…

Now he didn't know what he was. He didn't know what he was doing, and suddenly Bastion realized how disillusioned Wycost must have felt when he left the Hunters. Should Bastion choose that path as well? 

The reploid slipped his semi-helmet on, making sure that the protective metal band about his head didn't pinch his hair, shaking his head.

"I don't know…I just don't know anymore." Bastion whispered to himself.

Reaching down to his desk, he pulled the two silvery metallic cylinders from their standing recharge racks. He pushed the buttons at their hilts, feeling the thrum of machinery come back to life as the energy blades within sparked into life.

One purple, and one blue. Bastion's twin beam sabers, capable of magnetically joining at their bases to form a beam staff. Yet another reminder of Bristol.

He shut them off and dropped them into the twin recharge holsters of his power pack that was fused permanently to his armor. Underneath it was a vacant spot, one that remained such, but nonetheless held an imprint.

If Bastion had wished it, that imprint would be covered up by a powerful set of Flight Wings known as the "Angel's Advantage." But Bastion did not want that. His sabers were reminder enough.

His angel had left him. And in his tortured psyche, she had also clipped his wings.

The pragmatist reploid keyed in his wrist comm, while slipping his plasma reflective armband into place, grunting as it sealed seamlessly with his armor for a snug fit. He could use that armband to block enemy Buster shots. That was its intent. Wycost had indeed left a legacy behind him, his computer files showing the genius and crazed individual who worked in war, but struggled for peace.

An individual who had walked out of the Hunters with even less flair than Bristol. It was those computer files that had given Bastion his newest piece of equipment, the armband he wore. But he shook his head, feeling his eyes begin to glaze over.

"Bastion here. What's on the to do list for the 21st today?" A reploid communications officer in the main data center grunted for a moment, keying in his request. Finally, the individual turned back and sent the response.

"Commander Bastion, your Unit's signed up for a Level Seven Training Mission in the Simulator room five hours from now." Bastion's eyes glimmered out for a moment, then he gave a simple thanks and clicked his comm off.

Level Seven. Severe, Joint Unit attack of a heavily defended Maverick base. Forces variable--which always meant superior.

It'd give him exercise, at least. But it didn't excite his spirit. And as Bastion glumly walked out the door, his head bowed down slightly as he tried uselessly to disguise his sorrowful mood, he realized something.

Just what was keeping him here? Bastion froze just outside his door.

"What is…" Bastion mused. Wycost had left. Then his eyes hardened.

Wycost had also been infected, turned into a Maverick, pitted against Bastion, then nearly slagged and taken back to base. Upon recovering from the most severe internal deletion of the Virus ever recorded by the Hunter's Medical Logs, Wycost had been permanently changed.

Something had died in him. Bastion had died enough.

There was something else as well. A tiny ray of hope that shined in his eyes and tried desperately to grant hope to him.

If Bristol returned…**If** being the crucial word…

Bastion would have to be here. 

He began to walk on again. But even though his mind had destroyed one block, his heavy heart held another.

Every moment he waited here without her was another moment of meaningless life.

Bastion was completely…and hopelessly…

Ensnared in a bond of pure love that was the most beautiful and dangerous of all kinds.

It was so strong, it could cement two together for eternity.

So strong, that when they were torn apart, the world seemed to crumble.

The cookie of his world was growing stale…

And the foot of cruel fate was fast approaching the crushing point.

In the long forgotten and barren country known as Greenland, the wind blew over the icy glacier with a howling rage. It was cold enough to freeze water in midair, and strong enough to shred a man's face to ribbons if he was crazy enough to stare into the howling air's maw. 

Fifty feet underground from this flat plateau of ice, machinery whirred, and the temperature was kept at a constant sixty five degrees on the old Fahrenheit scale. Lights flickered in the darkness, silently awaiting the command to fully activate.

This base was certainly new. There was no dust, no wear or grime in the machines. And there shouldn't be. URFAWP designed compounds well. Only this compound had a much more sinister role involved with it.

The reploids of URFAWP who had been forced to build this base now slept in deep stasis, their bodies suspended in capsules of liquid that kept their armor with a shiny luster. Until they were bidden to awake. 

Bidden by their new master. Not Julius Kinnian Horn, more aptly known as J.K. in the world circles. But by a Maverick.

The deadliest Maverick of them all. A Maverick who had ceased to hold true robotic form so long ago, and lived like a terrible parasite, leeching from one body to the next in his inexorable quest to destroy X, recruit Zero, and fulfill the late Doctor Wily's dreams of madness.

This Maverick was Sigma. And for a long time, he had been resting. Waiting. Expelled from his last body by X's abilities in what those human fools were calling "Sigma's Sixth", the Virus spirit of Sigma, the only shattered piece of him left had laid dormant in this computer, awakening from his recuperation period from time to time, asking only how much time had passed, and how much time was left for the construction of a new body.

The problem of his body was being taken care of by the synthesizing tubule next to the hibernating future Mavericks. For more than a week now it had been at work. Unlike the quick synthesizing run Sigma had operated last time under Ferret's guidance to recreate a previous body, Sigma had decided it was time to choose a new form.

New forms kept those Hunter fools on their toes…and gave him greater chances of success.

It had been an excruciatingly long process for Sigma, who had all the time in the world to wait, but not the patience. Directing the machinery, cursing at its slowness, his ravaged mind calmly trying to lead the schematics.

And within two days, the synthesizing computer had promised Sigma, his new body would be completed.

And then he could once more begin what was his only mission left.

To destroy. Infect. And survive. 

The giant computer monitor overhead flickered to life, and a green shimmering wire frame face appeared on the screen.

Looking through eyes marked with jagged scars, eyebrows turning down in a grimace as his bald head rotated about slowly, Sigma watched his newest lair.

It was temporary, lacking the structure of his previous master Fortresses. Doppler's had been the greatest of them, weaving about with booby traps, massive Maverick hordes, heavily armed robotic sentries, and teleportation traps.

Of course, Doppler was…HAD…been a genius in the field. That was why Sigma had infected him. His body, his mind, and his lab presented a giant gift, much like a child would expect to get on Christmas.

There had been others like Doppler's fortress, like Doppler himself. Those dimwitted Repliforce fools had reached up into space, and created a Space Station called the Final Weapon. Sigma had almost succeeded in aiming the enormous laser down and obliterating the Hunter base completely. Of course, X had defeated him as usual, even though Sigma's bodies lay waste to him.

And then most recently, there had been that other fool. J.K. Horn and URFAWP. Sigma almost cackled with the sick pleasure it gave him.

Another dream destroyed. Another force for good transmuted, turned like angels into devils for his cause of the Apocalypse. Now URFAWP was a distant memory. Sigma kept up with the news at least.

But what would he attack next? Sigma pondered that question. He supposed he could do many short skirmishes over several years, with all the hidden bases of his.

But if the Hunters got smart, they might find a way to trace his airborne Virus file back to each base and destroy it at their leisure. Not to mention the bases did not have enough power in them to support an ultimate body, such as Kaiser Sigma, or Forever Sigma, or Big Gun and Ugly Head Sigma…

These were temporary solutions at best to Sigma's plots. Sitting in this computer's database for many days had given him time to ponder. Perhaps too much.

He had quickly realized how easily his Maverick Generals were taken down by the Hunters in what the news reports were cataloguing as "Sigma's Sixth". Nitro Narwhal hadn't even BEEN by the transport when they landed in Cairo, and what had surprised Sigma was the relative ease in which they found him.

Obviously, that fool J.K. Horn had helped them. But his role was minor. Those blasted Hunters…and his onboard cameras on the Hovertransports, not to mention Sigma's sly placing of the databugs in his Maverick's brains had shown it was more than the Hunters…

By some miracle, or fate perhaps, they had won. But it was more than Zero and X now. It was all of them. That impetuous flighty fool, Bastion. The twice infected Wycost, a reincarnated Hunter who had dispatched the portly Nitro Narwhal with ease and quashed the dam bombing.

And that new group that had arrived that stopped Megavolt Meerkat in Moscow. They were short, four and a half feet at best. What surprised Sigma was what they had said about themselves. Mere robots? The goldenrod silver and black robot had said with menacing words that they were more than such. Could robots evolve to a reploid's status in this day and age? Mere robots had stopped Mavericks…

Sigma realized in all his pondering there was more facing them than ever before. Not just the Hunters anymore, it seemed that rogue Vigilante groups were now working alongside them.

It was a dangerous time to be a Maverick. But Sigma could wait. His grimfaced computer model floated on the screen, watching the room and waiting.

Two more days.

_Two more days…then I can begin again. _Sigma laughed inside of himself, a hollow raspy sound that was as meaningless as his bodies.

He was not a reploid. He was not even a reploid Maverick.

He was just a chunk of computer code, free floating between bodies, bases, and hard drives.

Because of that, he could succeed. 

And Sigma could wait for that time. 

He had years left if he played his cards right. And Sigma always had an ace up his sleeve.

_Let it begin. _Sigma mused, looking down at the stasis filled eyes of his infected URFAWP servants. _Let it begin once more. X…Zero…are you ready to play the game of cat and mouse?_

My cheese holds poison even if you do find it.

Sigma laughed.

And above ground, a native crossing the icy glacier island on his snowmobile shivered for a moment as he passed overhead. Shaking his head, the native passed it off as just one of those things.

After all, places didn't give off bad vibes.

No, certainly not the harbinger of destruction.

Certainly not.

Wycost was walking along a barren desert, his leather jacket flaring out behind him as the wind kicked up sand into his face. His eyes were well protected, however. His sunglasses had served him well all these years. His green shirt was still in place, as was his dark blue jeans, neatly pressed. The ends were flared out to make room for the overtly large shoes he wore, not shoes at all, but merely a covering for his metallic boots. 

"What am I doing here?" Wycost mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, the reploid realized he didn't know.

By all rights, he should be on a plane to Denver, Colorado in the United States. Not in a sandy dune that could have been the upper Sahara, the Middle East, or even the Gobi.

But nonetheless, he was here.

**Still wandering, eh Wycost? Tell me, what makes you feel alone here? What you've done in life, or what you're doing to fix it? **Wycost froze, his mouth falling slightly open. His hands primed at his side, and he looked about himself.

"Where…Where are you?!" The voice chuckled for a moment, and Wycost found himself being jolted out of the sleepy state he had been walking in.

**You think you're so different than before…and you know so little. **Wycost tore his glasses off and glared up at the sky.

"I know you're there! Why can't you come down here and talk to me like a normal person?" 

A flash of light enveloped him, and the voice grew louder.

**Wycost, do you know how difficult it is to speak normally when you're dead?**

The light subsided, and a figure stood thirty feet away. His dimpled face shone underneath the thick folds of the full body brown cloak, and the smile was wide. He lifted his face up, finally letting his eyes reveal themselves.

"Hello, Wycost." The figure said, pulling his hood back. The brown hair waved in the wind, and his shady gray eyes twinkled with happiness of another age. Wycost blinked in stunned disbelief, then pointed.

"You…But…" Wycost shook his head, trying to block out the horrific memories. "Christ, Isaiah! I killed you!" Isaiah shrugged, then let out a small noise of what could have been acknowledgement.

"So? It was Fluid Ferret, Sigma, and the Maverick Virus that made you do it. And you never did accept it. Which means you're not a killer. Killers don't worry about being haunted by the spirits of their victims." Isaiah's eyes twinkled brighter as his cheeks went up in a smile.

"Normal reploids, however…Well, let me ask you this. Why do you think I'm here?" Wycost shook his head, brushing his hair back.

"I don't know…but it's freaking the crap out of me." Isaiah shrugged again. 

"Have a seat then. This is your dream, after all." Wycost frowned.

"Eh?" A seat shimmered into existence behind him, and likewise for Isaiah.

The supposedly deceased reploid sat down in his own chair, placing his hands gently in his lap.

Wycost fell into his.

"If this is a dream…Then what are you?" Isaiah blinked in surprise, then raised his eyebrows and made a pouty face.

"Oh, I'm real enough. The rest of this may be a dream, but this is the only time I can still talk to you."

"So, what are you then? If you're not a blink of memory like the rest of my dream, what are you?" Isaiah whistled for a moment, then looked up at the fake sky.

"Consider me your spirit guide. Seeing as I departed the earth--rather hastily--I was offered a second chance at doing whatever I wanted." Isaiah smiled. "Helping you out seemed like the best thing." Isaiah stood up, and rubbed his hands together. Wycost stood up, still not believing what he saw.

Isaiah pouted.

"What? Do you doubt what your eyes see?" Isaiah pointed to Wycost. "Hey, if it's that much of a problem, I'll leave. No questions asked, you can keep on going your merry way. But you got problems, my friend. Psychological ones I can help you work out. Your quest to protect Bristol once you find her is only one part of the super deluxe car wash and wax package." Isaiah shrugged again. "So, whaddya say, Wycost? I've never known you to turn down a challenge." 

The green ex-Hunter thought for a moment, then nodded his head.

"I have no reason to doubt you. You helped pull me back from depression once." Isaiah beamed.

"THAT's the Wycost I know. Now! Let me list out a few things for you. My service is temporary. TEMPORARY. I'm only allowed to stick around long enough to get you back on your feet, and then SCCHWOOOMP! I'm out of here to the great beyond." Isaiah pointed. "So make the most of your time with me. You want to talk, or you're in severe distress, knock out for a few hours in stasis. I'll find ya."

Wycost put his glasses back on, then put his hands in his pockets.

"I have three questions, Isaiah. Can you answer them?" Isaiah tilted his head and gave a wry smile.

"Within reason." Wycost nodded.

"Are you my guardian angel?"

"For lack of a better term--Yes. A temporary one. You always do manage to keep a hold on yourself most of the time. And Wycost, I'm temporary because there will come an age where someone else will take my place. Someone far better in the long run." Wycost frowned.

"That's one. Here's two: Will I find Bristol?" Isaiah laughed.

"If that isn't the stupidest question you could have asked. The answer is yes. But I can't tell you when, and what the conditions of that discovery will be. I'm here to instill hope, not innate wisdom of events that have yet to transpire." Wycost held up three fingers on his left hand, and found that they were shaking.

"Last Question: You said after you were done helping me, you were going for the great beyond. Do you mean that reploids go to the same place as humans after they die?" Isaiah rolled his tongue around the inside of his cheek, raising his eyes up into the inside of his skull.

"How do I answer this one…" Isaiah snapped his fingers as a dream lightbulb appeared over his head. "AHA!" Isaiah tugged his sleeves back and nodded. "Yes, there's life after death, so to speak. Reploids need not fear that they'll miss out on the same opportunities humans constantly illusion themselves with. Because my dear Wycost, reploids are as human as anyone. We just have different bodies. The same mind, though. Capable of acts of light and dark." Isaiah frowned, and found himself beginning to flicker out.

"Aah, nuts. It seems I've used up my time here for now. Imprinting an image into a dream is more taxing than just a voice." Isaiah waved happily. "But don't you worry, Wycost. Like I said, whenever you need me, I'll be around." Isaiah completely faded out.

**I'm always here, Wycost. Just believe in yourself, and stop doubting your abilities for good! **

Wycost slumped onto the sandy dune of his dream, completely drained by the experience.

His mind raced. Was it real?

**Wycost, here's how you'll know it's real. Look out your window when you wake up. You'll see me waving, okay? **

Wycost woke up.

Jolting himself awake, Wycost realized he was still strapped into his seat on the massive jumbo airliner. But he had the sense to look out the window.

Nighttime as they crossed the ocean. And through all the twinkling stars outside, a brilliant blazing flash of light streaked downwards from high above.

Wycost blinked, raising his eyebrows. A shooting star?! He smiled as he finally accepted what had transpired in his stasis period.

"Hello, Isaiah." Wycost mumbled softly, tracing the window with his finger. The shooting star continued down, then flickered out as the last bits of itself burned up.

"I'm glad to know I have a friend walking with me on this mission."

Long ago, Isaiah had smiled down on Wycost when he had saved Cairo.

He was smiling again.

"Atteeyn-HUT!" Gavin barked out as Bastion walked in the door. Instantly, the laughing, joking mass of Hunters that was the 21st "Lightning Strike" Unit came to full attention, bouncing up to their feet and staring straight ahead in the rigid military stance. Bastion waved his hand and let the door shut behind him.

"I told you once, Gavin. When we're faced with a serious Maverick threat, then we worry about Military protocols. Don't worry too much about it now." Bastion's words were normal, but his eyes were still downcast. Jad waved from his end of the line as the Hunters relaxed.

"Welcome back, commander." Bastion grunted and turned to the training room's wall datapadd to input the training level. Jad continued on undaunted, shaking his head with a smile. "Hey, we had a bet going to see when you'd come out of there. Kol won." 

Bastion ignored Jad's voice. It wasn't too hard. He was not focused on them in the least, and still was phased. Phased by lack of sleep, the normal weariness, and a genuine lack of life's influence over him. 

He put in the final commands and hit the activate sequence. The room shimmered around them as the simulation began. 

Bastion recognized the place that surrounded it. International Space Port. ISP. It was this place that he had gained his Powerstorm Wings from in the Fifth Uprising. Glaring through his eyes, he realized that at the level of training brought in, there would be more than one Maverick General. There'd be at least two. And even though this was a simulation, simulations still had the ability to knock you out for days.

"Spread out, guys!" Gavin roared, whipping his saber to life. Bastion's dull eyes registered the Unit dispersing, heading about to wipe out the Mavericks. 

So what was he doing here again? Bastion sighed and pulled his sabers out, igniting them and slamming the bases together.

The metal seamlessly joined, forming a complete staff. One blade purple, and one blue. Flickering slightly with the crackling energy within, the electromagnetic blade barriers shone with an incandescence that could light up the darkest evening, or slice through the thickest steel armor plate.

Bastion looked through muddled eyes once again, scanning the skies for the foe he knew awaited him.

But he saw two. Airborne Albatross, for one. He was this area's token Maverick. And the menacing, elongated form of a past Maverick…

Blast Hornet.

Bastion's eyes dimmed down.

"Great…"

What a great time to leave his main Flight Armor behind. He was stuck on the ground while these guys took potshots at him. He could try and activate it, but that took time he might not have. He raised his wristcomm up.

"Jad, Kol! Start shooting at those two airborne Mavericks! Once I get my Flight Armor, worry about the ground based ones." The two close friends clicked their comms in reply, and Bastion could see a steady stream of plasma fire erupt from below, scorching the sky and racing up towards the two Mavericks above.

Airborne Albatross and Blast Hornet responded in turn, and the feathered Maverick unleashed a barrage of missile fire upon the plasma firing Hunters from above. Both him and Hornet weaved their way through the energy storm, charging straight for Bastion.

Bastion raised his wristcomm again and spoke.

"Jad, Kol…you can stop now. They're after me." Jad clipped in.

But sir! Your Flight Armor!" Bastion shut his eyes and took in a sharp breath.

"I'll have to face them without it. Bastion, out." Bastion primed his sabers again, making sure that the staff configuration was safely in place. 

Not a moment too soon. Albatross and Hornet landed in front of him, glaring angrily as they pointed at him.

"Hunter! Now is the time to die!" Bastion's eyes were calm as he listened…

A closer term might have been aloof, or distant. He wasn't really paying close attention to them. 

"Just shut up and fight, Mavericks." Bastion grumbled. Albatross scoffed and looked behind his shoulder to the insect Maverick.

"You want first crack at him?" Hornet's eyes went up in what might have been a twisted and sick smile.

"Sure." Hornet's wings extended, humming angrily with the same sound a true Hornet made. In a blast of speed, the insect Maverick charged at Bastion.

The Desert Fire planted himself firmly into his stance, seeing the Maverick approaching. His eyes narrowed down, his grip tightened, and he calculated the Maverick's speed. 

Less than a second until contact.

Contact.

Bastion's beam staff swung up in a twisting maneuver designed to place at least one slashing surface upon the Maverick. Hornet slammed his modified Buster down, crashing upon the hilt of the blades and smashing onto Bastion's fingers.

The move caught The Desert Fire unawares, and he grunted in pain for a moment. Only a moment, as he pushed past it and managed to nick Blast Hornet in the shoulder with a diagonal cut.

The Maverick broke away from Bastion, turning about and readying his Buster. Bastion didn't see it, but the stinger on Hornet's large thorax also vanished to reveal a cannon of sorts. 

A bright homing beacon from Hornet's Buster locked onto Bastion, and his thorax cannon unleashed an unusually large bomb. It struck the ground, breaking apart with a shattering crunch.

That bomb unleashed a mad buzzing storm of robotic insects, all charging towards the homing beacon Hornet had placed on Bastion. 

Finally, The Desert Fire's eyes realized what was approaching. The famed Parasitic Bomb. Had it not been for the Gravity Well, X would have also been crushed.

And even in training…

This would still hurt. Bastion shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the painful jolt that would knock him into stasis for two days and signify a death on his scorecard.

Before Sigma's Sixth, Bastion would have never let this occur.

But he just didn't care anymore. 

Bastion didn't care if he lived or died.

The simulation ended with a blaring klaxon, and then all fell silent. Jad, Kol, Gavin, and the other members of the 21st unit stumbled for a few moments before realizing that their training mission was over with.

Jad looked over, and spotted the reason why.

Bastion lay crumpled on the ground, his beam staff shut off and useless by his side. His eyes were closed, and the lids glistened with clear liquid…Tears?!

His armor was slightly scuffed, showing where the semi-solid holograms had slammed into him. And above Bastion, the scoreboard flashed ominously with the results.

**Commander Bastion, 21st Unit. Training Outcome: Failure. Return to Medical Bay for treatment.**

"Oh, Jeezus…" Kol gaped. The stunned and hushed voices of the 21st mumbled among themselves.

"Knew he wasn't all there…"

"Why is he still in charge…"

"Why didn't he use his Armor…"

"If Bastion keeps this up, we should probably find a new Commander…" That tore it for Gavin, and he stomped his foot on the ground, glaring about himself.

"The lot of you are FULL OF CRAP. Bastion has done more for this Unit…for US…than we can ever repay him for! And now when he's going through a rough spot in his life, you begin to doubt him?" Gavin shook his head. "Bastion gave me the role of Second in Command for this Unit. And if any of you have any complaints about working under him, you CAN LEAVE. Toss in your Unit insignia now, and get out of my sight." Gavin jerked a thumb at himself, his eyes burning brightly.

"I'm not leaving Bastion, and I'm not getting him kicked out. I was ready to stand by him, even if it meant my death. But I'll be damned if I stand next to a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing cowards who are getting too hot under the collar for a promotion." Gavin shook his head and walked over next to Bastion, disabling the staff and placing the two sabers in Bastion's rechargers. He hoisted the stasis going Hunter onto his shoulder, and glared again.

"I'm taking him to Hazil to get him patched up. The rest of you can do whatever the Hell you want." Gavin walked out of the door, his pace barely changed by the extra weight.

Jad and Kol joined at his side, the Trio walking out of the simulation room as one.

They were loyal to Gavin, and to each other.

More so to Bastion. 

Doan walked in his room slowly, fresh from another visit to Cleo. Therefore, his usual frown wasn't as severe, and his eyes twinkled a bit with fresh life.

Of course, Cleo always did that to him. And no name was more appropriate than sunshine, for the role she filled in his existence. Doan looked about his room for a moment, wondering now at Six in the evening what he should do. It was tomorrow before he was expected to do anything.

Thankfully, the reploid was spared boredom by a phone call, chirping to life and lighting up his vidphone. Doan walked over and punched in the receive command, and was surprised to see the phone type…

"Vox…voice only?" Doan queried himself. He frowned. People didn't use vox that much anymore…His eyes lit up. "But he does!" 

Doan picked up the connection.

"Wycost?" He asked softly. The voice on the other end was silent for a moment, and then a low chuckle came over the connection.

"One of these days I'll do something that keeps you from guessing its me, Doan."

"Like a sex change?" Doan said with a small smile.

"More like a secure connection." Wycost retorted. "Anyways, I thought I'd call again and get an update." Doan's eyes narrowed.

"Well, the Hunters are running a bit more training than before, now that we know Sigma's going to strike again. It's just a question of where…when is not the problem anymore." Doan wondered if he should continue…Wycost answered his question.

"You're holding something back, Doan." Doan's eyes twinkled.

"Yes…Although it's not a happy tidbit. You sure?"

"Life's kicked me in the ass so many times, I got a permanent bootprint. Just give me the poop." Doan took in a breath.

"Bastion was in training today. Full team, maximum danger level…he didn't make it."

"Ya mean…"

"Yeah. In stasis as we speak." Wycost grew silent on his end of the line, then nodded his head. 

"Somehow I thought he might be terribly afflicted by Bristol's departure. Have you told him I'm out on the walkabout?" Doan's spirits sparkled up.

"No…Haven't had the time to."

"Then I suggest you complete that role before I come back there and kick your face in for letting me down." Doan chuckled softly.

"Doesn't that go against your new life philosophy?"

"Destroying life, yes. Giving you a black eye for letting me down, no." Wycost retorted. "So, will you tell him?" Doan harrumphed for a moment.

"That's in my power. Two final questions before our short communique ends…"

"I'm listening." 

"One. Where are you?"

"Believe it or not, the U.S. Doing a little backtracking on Bristol's known hit list."

"Works. Second question, Wycost. You feeling any better? Not as mopey, I mean." Wycost paused for a moment on his end of the phone connection, then let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. I'd say the trip's done me good…and I've met a few people along the way. You wouldn't believe the help I've been able to give these past two weeks…"

"What did you do with Wycost?" Doan barked. The green ex-Hunter froze in midsentence, then let out a noise of surprise. Doan laughed a bit. "Sorry, Wycost. It's just you're a different person…and the good mood's infectious, to say the least."

"I'll keep that in mind." Wycost replied wryly. "These international calls eat up my salary from the Hunters like no one's business. Keep your nose clean, and tell Bastion I'm on the case. That guy deserves more than suffering, and Sheriff Wycost aims to get it for him." Wycost ended the connection, leaving Doan at the phone once more.

Doan gave a small twinge of a smile, then sat down to his PC and opened his Mail software. 

Addressing a letter to Bastion's E-Mail address, he began to type.

_To: Commander Bastion, 21st Unit_

From: Doan, 17th Unit

Subject: Forsaken Angels

Bastion,

As you may or may not know, I know Wycost from long ago. I was able to reconnect with him shortly before Sigma's Sixth, and we've since kept up communications.

And he had an important tidbit he wanted me to tell you, as a friend and even in retirement, loyal Hunter to the Unit.

Wycost is out walking through the world, on a search for Bristol. His hopes are high, and I can honestly believe he shall find her. I suppose this role is to make sure that you don't jump off a cliff or something in anguish. Which, considering your recent lack of effort in the 21st's training session, may be remarkably accurate.

Doan's eyes twinkled as he continued to type. 

"Don't you worry, Wycost. I won't let you down."

"Just like you won't let Bastion down."


	5. Uncovered Trials

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER THREE: UNCOVERED TRIALS

The Medical Bay of the Maverick Hunter Headquarters was certainly impressive. Looking like something out of Star Trek: Voyager, the only thing it was missing was the Holographic Doctor. Blinking lights, sparkling clean beds, operation utensils laid out in steri-stasis, a main entrance with a sliding door, and a separated area from the rest of it for the doctor's office and living quarters. Currently, only one patient was occupying the very spacious facility, lying dormant on a cot with his eyes shut, and barely breathing.

His helmet, a rather floppy thing that might have resembled a Junior High School Wrestler's helmet, were it nor for the imposing metal points on either side and the focused green crystal right over where the forehead would go, lay at his side. Almost all of the top was sliced off, thanks to one Maverick known as Megavolt Meerkat in the Fifth Uprising. It was this that made it so imposing and memorable.

His armor had been given a complete spit shine, and underneath the semi-bright fluorescent bulbs above, the reds and orange and the bright yellow, almost gold trimming of his boots sparkled with a brilliance that would leave most breathless. Most surprising was the combination of his facial features as for the first time in two days, he opened his eyes.

His hair was an imposing mass of well trimmed mane that was two colors of brown, one light and one dark. His facial skin was a tanned bronze that if he were human, would speak of many years under the sun. 

Of course, like so many others in the world of today, he was not human. He was reploid. A robot with superhuman abilities and the odd quirk of a mind that worked exactly like a human's. The ultimate step in robotics yet. 

His white gloved hands, lying at his sides uselessly, clenched up into fists as the realizations of it all crashed down upon him. And then from the office close by, a gray haired reploid came walking in, staring absently at a datapadd in his hand while whistling an old Irish tune. 

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Bastion." The gray haired reploid announced. The brown haired Bastion pulled himself free from the cot and snapped his helmet back on, making sure all of his hair did not get pinched by the metal.

"If I'm alive, Hazil, why do I feel dead?" Bastion replied tersely. Hazil shrugged, ignoring Bastion's obvious plight.

"Don't try to get sympathy from me, ya wetnosed Hunter." Hazil replied, finally putting the datapadd down and focusing his dark gray eyes on the blue orbs of Bastion. "I see more Hunters shipped through here a complete mess than most docs will see in their lifetime. Playing psychologist is something I never had time to do. Especially since I'm always sewing up Buster wounds and the like. And make no mistake, Bastion. Your problem is psychological." Hazil turned about and picked up his datapadd. Typing in a request, he shut down all his files and secured them with a password, then brought up Bastion's Electronic Mailbox. He grunted and handed the small plastic device over.

"You've got mail." Bastion ignored the ancient AOL quote and tapped in his access codes for message availability. Instantly, they popped up. He put it aside for a moment, focusing once more on Hazil.

"So the problem's in my skull. That makes perfect sense." Bastion snapped raggedly. Hazil made a weak grunting noise and shrugged.

"It's the best I got. And I have a 95% probability of correctly assuming its because Bristol walked away." Bastion's eyes dimmed out.

"Great. Is it that obvious?" Hazil gave a wise, all knowing smirk and crossed his arms.

"Funny thing about us doctors. We see more of you than you usually see of yourself." Bastion narrowed his eyes in a look that spoke of indignance. Hazil merely gave a quick grin and waved his hand. "Just read your mail already." Bastion scanned through the list again, before bringing up a message from Cain. As he read, he also spoke to Hazil.

"Just asking, what was the other 5% probability chalked up to?" Hazil spun a finger in the air.

"The fact that Sigma's back. But knowing your rather…well, let's say, INTERESTING past and the fact you don't mind kicking a little Maverick arse every now and then, that seemed unlikely. As a matter of fact, it usually cheers you up." The doc picked up another datapadd and began to review his patient list for the day. "So you find anything good in that list of two day old tripe?" 

Bastion shrugged, not really paying attention to Hazil. "One from Cain…figures. He tried to send me one of those funky dancing flower get well programs. YEESH. Here's one from Gavin…I placed him second in command." Bastion's eyes went up for a moment, then crashed down. "It seems that most of my Unit's raring to demote me down. PERFECT." Bastion shook his head. "All of this is just GREAT news, you know that?" He said sarcastically. "Here's one from that friend of Wycost. Doan. I wonder what he has to sa…"

Bastion's grumbled mutterings ceased as soon as if he had vanished in nuclear fire. The silence so disturbed Hazil, he turned about with a quizzical look on his face. 

"Bastion?" Came the soft and almost unnoticeable voice of Hazil. Bastion's mouth gaped for a few moments, and then the Hunter did something he hadn't done in two weeks and two days.

He smiled. Hazil rapped the side of his arm, then coughed loudly. Bastion shook his head.

"Wycost…He's following her." That made Hazil raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"As what? Like a bodyguard of sorts?" Bastion nodded.

"As far as Doan could make out, Wycost is trying to protect life, rather than destroy it." 

"Sounds like a fair idea to me." Hazil grunted back. "Now, howabout you and Mister Doan go have a nice long talk about this? I need to get this place prepped for my first patient today." Bastion nodded.

"Gladly. And Hazil?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for patching me up." Hazil scoffed.

"Physical wounds are one thing. It's up to you to get rid of the inner turmoil inside." Hazil pointed to the door. "And you're not going to find the answers in here. OUT!"

Bastion placidly trotted out the door, once more leaving Hazil alone. The Medical Doctor smiled for a moment and crossed his arms.

He'd been with the Hunters since before the First Maverick Uprising. And along the way…he'd seen it all. The strangest surprises came with the new bunch of hotdoggers from the Fifth Uprising and beyond.

Doan, Bastion, Wycost, Bristol, Jad Kol and Gavin…

"Never a dull moment when you're around these guys."

The caves underneath Cossack's Citadel were as much a part of the overall design as the towering spires, seeming like Red Square itself had been uprooted and placed in the middle of the Siberian Wasteland. Dug out by robotic hands, and filled with a bustling complex of facilities, mini-power plants and maintenance bays, the intricate construction served double duty for anyone daring to try and infiltrate the place.

Of course, no one would ever try such a thing. Because no one suspected the deep underground caverns existed in the first place. 

Save those who worked in them. The great Sergei Cossack, his middle aged daughter Kalinka, still a looker while over the hill, and the robots inside of the lair.

There were Metools and surface sweepers for basic duties. Hovering sensor probes scanned the power grid for anomalies and reported back. The waterways and sewage plants of the castle flowed smoothly, not once having gone out of balance in over 30 years of service.

The castle was completely self sufficient, with its own underground river and water storage tanks. It did not rely on external power, using a combination of solar, wind, and cold fusion power cells to maintain efficiency.

All of this would seem to be too good to be true. But then again, it was paid for by the revolutionary robotic designs of Sergei Cossack back in 20XX. His schematics were second only to Doctor Light's, and perhaps Doctor Wily as well.

But unlike Wily, Cossack had no intention whatsoever of world domination.

And now many years later, in the age of 21XX, Sergei Cossack wanted only one thing.

"WHERE'S MY TEAAA?!" His lungs were sturdy even in his waning days, thanks to the excellent care he had given them when he was younger. Smoking was something he had avoided. 

He tapped his left arm's fingers on the chair's armrest, staring out into the semi-dark interior of the second sub-basement where he usually kept tabs on things. Finally, a response arrived as in a flurry of dust and concrete, a reddish metal mass flung itself free of the ground only feet away from the doctor. Cossack frowned and readjusted his glasses.

"Drill Man, NYET. Didn't I tell you to lay off of the floor drilling? _Pravda,_ walk normally like the rest of us hulking bipeds." The Robot blinked his almost cartoonish optics and shrugged, raising a drill capped arm in the air.

"Apologies, doctor. I was under the impression you required assistance most urgently." His voice was clipped, terse, and without emotion. _Robotic._

Which is exactly what Drill Man was. Like all of the servants in Cossack's Siberian Citadel, Drill Man was a robot. Having been kept activated for many years, he had gained a little more of what humans might call 'bedside manner', but he was still a far cry from the ro…no, REPLOIDS that Cossack had laid eyes on with X, Zero, and Hazil.

So far, the only three outsiders ever to set foot in this lair. Cossack shook his head and pointed to the empty china cup beside him.

"I needed tea. Drill Man, you don't have hands for pouring. I didn't build you with them." Drill Man nodded his head, choosing not to issue a verbal response. Cossack sighed and looked behind Drill Man.

"So, who's bringing the tea then?"

"Mistress Kalinka is currently in the secondary galley on this level, boiling water for your brown, caffinated H20 beverage." Cossack rolled his eyes at the annoying term Drill Man used.

"It's called tea."

"Doctor, forgive me for mentioning this, but tea IS an H20 based beverage, where leaves have been added to put in a brown coloring and caffeine. My term is accurate."

"It's also annoying." Cossack pushed his glasses up so they rested in his grayish hair and rubbed his eyes. "Where are the others?"

"Clarify."

"The other ROBOT MASTERS, blast you." Drill Man crossed his arms and let his eyes widen.

"What's the magic word?" Cossack dropped his glasses back down and stared annoyedly at the inflection and goofy look Drill Man had used just then.

"The lot of you must act oafish just so you can surprise me in cases like this. All right Drill Man. The Magic Word is PLEASE. PLEASE tell me where the others are."

Satisfied with his victory, Drill Man nodded his head and continued. "Dust Man is…pardon the expression, making a sweep of the tourist areas." Cossack shook his head.

Down here, that joke was almost older than him. "Also, Bright Man and Skull Man are working on polishing the dome spires on the outer walls. Toad Man is currently in the waterways, checking up on a small leak. Dive Man has opted to shut himself down until five hours from now. And Ring Man and Pharaoh Man are in the converted training room training." Cossack's gaze lit up.

"Aah, so they're practicing to save the world." Drill Man blinked obliviously.

"That is our primary function as the Foregone Five. Should I join them, Doctor?" Sergei Cossack shrugged.

"As long as you take me with you." Cossack grunted and pulled himself free of the computer chair, using a metallic walking cane to ease himself into the nearby motorized wheelchair he used to get about the fortress. Drill Man gave another short nod of his head, then walked alongside his creator, plodding slowly at the wheelchair's pace. 

Aside from the hum of the cart's motor and the whining overhead fluorescent lights, it was quiet for the two of them as they walked along. The quiet did not disturb Drill Man, but Cossack was left ill at ease.

"Drill Man?"

"Yes, doctor?" came the automatic response. Cossack shook his head, then looked up at the robot he had built so many years ago.

"Do you ever think that you have become more than you were?"

"Clarify." Cossack struggled with the doubts in his head.

"You have been online for more than thirty years now. In all that time, have you…evolved?" Drill Man blinked again, an involuntary movement he had picked up from Pharaoh Man.

"In some ways. In others, I choose to remain as I am."

"You mean, you do not wish to become more like a reploid?" Drill Man's eyes narrowed and he lost pace for a moment, but he resumed his gait. Still, Cossack noticed what it had done to him.

"That is essentially correct, doctor." Cossack cleared his throat and adjusted the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

"Why? Why do you not wish to evolve?" Drill Man shook his head back and forth.

"The reasons are…illogical. I find myself unable to find the proper term for it." Cossack's eyes flashed open. Turning his head ever so slightly, he blinked at Drill Man.

"Are you afraid?" Drill Man paused, then looked down at his creator. A quick nod of his head, and then the robot walked on.

"Affirmative. That seems to be the most rational term to use. Yes…I am afraid."

"Of what?" Cossack asked, pushing farther on into Drill Man's thoughts. "What are you afraid of?" Drill Man shrugged, and Cossack could see his eyes narrow down even farther.

His mind was coming close to overheating, because puffs of hot air pushed themselves free of his head from time to time.

"I am afraid…" Drill Man shook his head. "The best answer I can attain is I am afraid of losing myself." Cossack finally let out a knowing aah and nodded.

"Da, Drill Man. That is a powerful force. The fear of self-preservation." Sergei let out a small cough. "But whether you like it or not, all of you, my eight children…you are all growing more and more like the reploids in thought."

"That is most unnerving." Drill Man said drily. "After all, reploids suffer from the affliction known as Mavericks."

"True, true." Sergei replied. "But they also can be helpful. Like Hazil, the reploid that upgraded you." Drill Man shrugged again, and then pointed at the door to the newly created training room.

"We are here, doctor." Drill Man rapped lightly with one drill tipped arm on the metallic door, hearing a great conflict beyond the sturdy surface. "Pharaoh Man, Ring Man. Suspend training activities immediately." The noises ceased, and then the door slid open. 

Cossack and Drill Man walked through the open doorway, blinking for a moment as their eyes readjusted to the brighter lights. Pharaoh Man and Ring Man walked over, the two of them looking scuffed and battered. Drill Man raised an eyelid further.

"Making a mess of things as usual, I see." Pharaoh Man shrugged and threw back his Goldenrod turban and neck cover.

"And a good afternoon to you as well, Spock. Hey doc, howzit going?" Unlike Drill Man's shorter and more clipped speech, Pharaoh Man's patterns were more human, and filled with inflection. Talking to X, Zero, Hazil, and the doctor himself over his years had resulted in the most complex Artificial Intelligence matrix of all the Robot Masters. 

It was only natural that the silver black and light goldenrod robot then would lead the special Maverick Defense Unit known as "The Foregone Five." So secret, only Hazil, X, Zero, Cain, and of course Cossack himself knew about it. So secret, no one knew who had saved Moscow in Sigma's Sixth. It had been them, of course.

Pharaoh Man prided himself in this leadership role, and by some miracle had kept his entire team alive. He himself had suffered a powerful leg wound, but Cossack had fixed it up and given the robot a stern warning about high intensity focus laser turrets.

"I am sorry for the noise, doctor." Pharaoh Man said before bowing slightly. "But Ring Man and I just perfected a new move here. Care to see it?" Sergei shrugged.

"Why not? Very well." Pharaoh Man raised his voice.

"Computer, send in a blank Cossack generation road paver." Cossack raised his eyes. That particular robot was seven feet tall, orange and red, and with a very nasty spiked stomping surface underneath it for a leg. All in all, a powerful juggernaut that Mega Man had had to face time and time again.

Within moments, a wall had opened up and sent in a road paver 'bot. Pharaoh Man nodded to Ring Man, who plucked a metallic circle free from his armband and expanded it. Pharaoh Man took his own time to focus a ball of his plasmic energy into his hands, and with calm precision, stuck it into the center of the ring. 

The modified ring bomb hummed and vibrated a little in Pharaoh Man's hand before he flung it at the road paver with deadly aim. It whistled along through the air just like a normal Ring Boomerang, but as the metallic circle ground through the outer hull plating, the plasmic energy ball exploded outwards, burning a bigger hole and causing the ring to convert into shrapnel.

Ten different holes were blown out of the robot, sparking circuits and whining with failsafes before it shut down three seconds later. Pharaoh Man's eyes beamed at the pride he felt, and Cossack laughed and clapped.

"DA! That is very good, Pharaoh Man." Pharaoh Man shrugged, then jerked a thumb to Ring Man.

"Congratulate him. His idea." Cossack looked between the three robots standing in that room alongside of him and shook his head.

Odd how they had a purpose at last.

Wycost's travels had finally taken him to the outskirts of Denver, Colorado. He stuffed his hands into the leather jacket he wore and shook his thick jet black hair back for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day.

"It may be the mile high city, but I'll be damned if it isn't windy to boot." The reploid finally grumbled. He activated the internal circuits of his head and brought up the command codes to his sunglare goggle's HUD display. It silently blinked into life, the yellowish brackets, numbers and words flashing brightly onto the inside edge of his dark glasses.

He swiveled his gaze around, the powerful sensors embedded within the goggles sending out an X-Ray signal. Even the ground was suspect, but Wycost found nothing.

No buried broken metal pieces of reploid, no hidden weapons caches…this place was clean.

But a little less than two months ago, this site had been host to a particularly dangerous firefight between the Hunters and the uninfected Mavericks. Bristol had emerged in the locale, scuffed, worn out, and with a wiped memory. 

"And nothing now." Wycost finally sighed, disabling the scanner and the HUD figures. They faded slowly, lingering as if disappointed before vanishing completely from his view. 

Wycost chewed on the toothpick in his mouth. Tia Xiang had told him he should go here next…but he'd turned up nothing in the two days on full alert. And to top it off, he was getting worn down again. He'd have to find someplace relatively safe for a semi-stasis charge, a step below full stasis that allowed him to wake up if external stimuli were suspicious or dangerous. 

But one thing at a time. Where to go from here. And here was nowhere.

"Great. I'm lost." Wycost grumbled a bit more loudly than he should have. He didn't expect an answer, but he got one.

"Och, then I'd say you're in a wee spot of trouble then. Ye canna go where ye want to if ye donna know where ye'are already." Wycost bit down on his toothpick a bit and unconsciously clenched his right hand up. Strangely, his left one didn't. And it should have. 

The voice was feminine and Scottish. And it came from behind him. Close. Probably…Five feet?

Wycost turned and gauged the distance with his eyes. Yep, he was right.

"Pardon me, miss?" Wycost replied calmly, doing his best not to let his dour mood from sinking into his voice. The lady standing behind him returned his gaze with a half smile and folded her arms.

Arms that were slender white, that vanished into a jungle green T-Shirt. Wycost was glad he was wearing his glasses, as he could look her down completely without betraying his line of sight. Blue denim flare pants, a bluish green sweater, piercing jade eyes, and a fiery orange red hair coloring. Her bust was modest, but not overpowering, her ears were small and lobed, and her nose had a definitive point in its impish form.

God, was this lady Scottish. She grunted and shook her head again.

"I said ye seem lost, traveler. And with a voice like that, ye don't exactly hail from around here, I'd wager." 

"Yer point being?" Wycost grumbled back, suddenly realizing how different his voice was. He'd slipped back into Bronx English, a guttural New Yorker lilt on the language that sometimes could cause him to slur words together. The woman narrowed her gaze.

"A wee bit on the clippy side. Does that sharp voice have a name to it, or are you a stranger to that as well?" Wycost set his jaw and stopped himself from issuing a similar taunt.

"Wycost." He finally said acidly. "Now what's yours…Erin of the High Hills?" 

"Ye wish it'd be that easy for ye." She shot back with another half smile. "I go by the title of Willow, a wee Scottish lass just trying to make her way in the world."

"So you're from around here, then?" Wycost asked, letting his voice take a softer tone to it. Willow's eyes narrowed a bit as she reached a sturdy hand with thin but supple fingers up to rub her chin.

"Aye, I suppose ye could say that." 

"Were you around here about two months ago when the Mavericks attacked?" Wycost asked, flipping his glasses up at last. Perhaps showing his eyes would disarm the woman, and help her talk more.

But to the contrary, the mention of Mavericks brought a dark scowl to her face as she shook her head.

"Aye. And I donna ever want to remember aboot it." Wycost nodded, looking into her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Did you lose someone close to you?" 

"I'm not about to be telling that kind of personal information to strangers now, am I?" Wycost grunted.

"You know my name. And that doesn't make us strangers anymore." Willow shook her head.

"Just what are ye doing here, Wycost?" Wycost shrugged and flipped his glasses back down.

"Looking for someone." 

"Someone special?" Willow suggested, her green eyes gaining a glint in them. Wycost frowned and shook his head.

"Just someone important." Willow shrugged.

"We're all searching for something or someone in life." Willow began to walk towards Wycost, then walked around him and kept on going. 

Like an invisible magnet was dragging him, Wycost followed.

"And what are you searching for, Willow?" Willow showed no sign of response to Wycost's question, as her eyes misted over and she shook her head.

"When those Mavericks struck here…they did more than just kill people. They ruined the lives of those who survived. I'm looking for someone who was ruined by their actions. I'm looking for someone who I have an old score to settle with." Wycost took in a small breath before responding.

"So where do you go from here?" Willow paused, then turned and looked with her fierce eyes into Wycost's own, hidden behind his glasses.

"I go my way, and ye go yours. But I have no doubt you'll find who you're looking for eventually."

"I wish you luck as well then." Wycost said in a soft tone. Willow nodded, then walked off.

Wycost shook his head sadly and turned around. A part of him wanted to go along with her. But the majority of him warned it was a bad idea, and of the fact he still had his own mission to worry about.

He began his first step, then froze and swiveled about. He could still make out Willow walking towards the roadside, her red hair waving about in the wind with a life of its own.

Then it all clicked together for him. The title, one word, no last name. Not even sounding like a traditional human's. The odd combination. The Scottish accent out here in the middle of the United States. The gleaming glints of sunlight flashing off of partially hidden metal on her feet as she walked along…

"Willow…is a reploid." Wycost finally mouthed softly. He pushed aside the nagging doubts in his mind, then harrumphed and turned back around, walking down his own path.

If he had kept looking, he would have seen Willow swivel about similarly with a frown of consternation.

"His eyes…they aren't human. Wycost's a reploid. And they burn…" She shook her head. "They burn like fire within a wee glacier…" She shivered for a moment and turned about.

Willow also had her own doubts about this Wycost fellow.

And whether the two of them realized it or not, both had made the same halfhearted wish.

That they not cross paths again.

Sadly, fate rarely listens to pleas.

Hazil whistled an old British tune he knew as he put his utensils on final sterilization cycle, then turned to his computer. 

According to his calculations, he had exactly two minutes before Cain was due in for the reassigned checkup. And that wasn't the most pleasant of time constraints he'd ever had to work with. Of course, there'd been worse, like when he had to get X running shipshape after all the times he was pounded out of his life in the First Uprising. Pushing his gray hair back for a second, he rolled his tongue about the inside of his mouth and shrugged.

"I forgot the spinach artichoke dip. Damn…" Hazil's eyes crinkled up into a grin, and his serious façade vanished into one of a jolly gruffish old man. "I guess little Jimmy's going to have to get his cavity removed without a trip into the dentist's toy box." Hazil knew Cain wasn't the only one today. Right after him, X was due in for a full physical, the kind he hated most because it usually meant he had to put on a rubber glove and look squeamish at what he was doing. X didn't appreciate those much either, but they were necessary for proper internal wire maintenance. Of course, X had always suggested Hazil just hit him over the head with a sledgehammer and spare him the agony of going through it fully active, but a proper checkup had to be made while all circuits were alive and kicking.

Hazil's door chittered loudly, telling the doctor someone was approaching. Halfheartedly, he swung his hand in the air.

"Enter!" He said gruffishly. The hydraulic hiss filled the air and in filed two beings, one hobbling on a wooden walking stick and the other dressed in full blue armor.

Cain and X, the Laurel and Hardy of the Hunters. 

"Hey Haz…" X said glumly, his face downcast. Hazil allowed himself a small grin as he was turned away from them, already hearing the moody voice of doom overcoming the father of the reploid race. 

"Aah, if it isn't my two favorite customers." Hazil pulled down a portable diagnostic tool and activated it. In the side of it he plugged in a stethoscope device, then pointed to the cold and paper covered medical cot close by. "You're up first, doc. Have a seat." Cain swiveled his wizened head about a bit uneasily and shrugged.

"Why don't you do X first?" X nearly choked on the mint he had already taken from Hazil's ever present 'jar of smiles' by the door.

"Whuh?!" X shook his head vigorously. "Ooooh, no way doc. I owe Hazil a full physical, and I plan to put that off for as LOONG as I can." Cain rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Please, X? Be a friend…"

"No, doc."

"Don't make me pull rank on you, COMMANDER…"

"Your mind is warped if ya think that'll stand up in court."

"I'll give you pizza…"

"What kind of crust?"

"Uuuh, thin?"

"Natch that, ya fogey. I want stuffed."

"AHEM!!!" Hazil bellowed, turning about and brandishing a big syringe with an imposing needle. He squeezed out a small stream of liquid from the tip and fixated the two of them with a stony glare. "I don't care WHICH one of you is first, but someone is going to climb up on that table and be a good boy, or I'll give BOTH OF YOU a temperature check the way your mommy did**_. RIGHT UP YOUR ASS WITH THE MERCURY GLASS_.**" X let out a small yeep and shut his mouth, and even Cain paled visibly. With Hazil's knack for painful medicine in the face of stupidity, they both knew he'd do it. X shook his head.

"All right you doddering old coward…I'll go first." Hazil dropped the angry gaze and put on a big fake smile before setting the syringe aside and clapping lightly.

"That's the spirit! Hop on board and ol' doc Hazil will fix you right up!" X shook his head and begrudgingly set his metallic body upon the cot.

"Okaaay…let's start with your blood pressure. X, give me a helmet dataport, please." X grimaced and hit a button on the right side of the bluish headgear he almost always wore, feeling the metal slide back, and then farther up into the helmet, exposing a connector. Hazil slipped a dataport jack into the side of it, paying little attention to X's grunt as he shoved the metal probe in with a little too much force. Hazil plugged the other end into his portable scanner and hit the access key. He let out a satisfied grunt and rattled off the numbers.

"Well, X…Your Blood Pressure's in the green. You might want to lay off the alchohol for a bit and stop hanging around the bar…you feeling signs of a hangover?"

"Not currently…" X grumbled, rubbing the side of his head. "Keep shoving more wires into me and I'll sprout an ulcer just to spite you." 

"You do that and I WILL cut ya open." Hazil threatened back. "Now I'm almost done…just got a few final procedures to follow."

X let silence hang over the room, aside from the beeping Hazil's scanner emitted when he punched in commands. Satisfied, Hazil unplugged the jack from X's helmet and patted him on the back.

"Well, X. You've got a clean bill of health for the next 50 years or at least until the next Maverick Uprising. Hopefully the first, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

"Well, you could…" 

"If I didn't have this excessive need to act human and get drunk, yeah." Hazil snapped his fingers. "X, OFF! Cain, UP YA GO!" Cain didn't even dignify Hazil's morbid sense of humor with so much as a harrumph before easing his aching body up onto the table. 

Hazil stepped up, already his tense body slackening as he worked with less force. He may have been gruff, but his respect for Cain, not to mention the man's frailty onset by his age was something Hazil tried to tiptoe around. He was a doctor dedicated to saving life, and human life was more precious to him than reploid in a pinch.

After all, reploids could be resurrected. Not so with the flesh and blood humans of earth. 

"All right, Cain. Let's check the reflexes." Hazil said softly, his face suddenly tightening as he swung a fist up to coldclock the man. Cain's eyes didn't flicker for a moment as with lightning speed that should not have been possible, his wiry hand drew the full measure of his wooden walking stick up to clash against the metallic fist.

Wincing a bit, and also satisfied with Cain's response, the Medical Reploid drew his fist back and shook it out in pain.

"Reflexes are fine. Hand eye coordination?" Cain gave Hazil the bird and a grim half smile. X chortled back from his leaning position against a wall of the Medical Bay.

"Whaddya know, one finger. I'd say that's fine." Hazil rolled his eyes.

"That's great, Cain. Wanna see if the others work?"

"Oh, they do."

"Keep this up and I'll splint the damn middle finger so you're walking around all day with that digit waving in the wind." Cain snorted a bit and drew his hand back, letting all his fingers extend out into a flat palm. Hazil tapped in a few commands onto his small scanner, then made a smacking sound with his mouth.

"All right. Now to see the real reason you've come in here." Hazil pulled out another syringe, tested it, then walked next to Cain. "This is a radioactive tracer. It'll help me track your bloodstream for the five minutes before it disintegrates." Hazil smiled. "I love these bi-chemical formulas. Saves me wear and tear on disposables." Cain nodded his head and braced against the needle as Hazil thumped the human's arm a few times, then satisfied he had found a vein, calmly slipped the metallic needle underneath his flesh and slowly injected the mixture into Cain. Cain let his face turn red in stored anger and swore a Yiddish curse he knew. Hazil finally removed the needle, then sprayed Cain's arm with a sealant with a chemical that would later be rubbed off by Cain's own skin cells.

"Quite done yet?" Cain grumbled under his breath. Hazil made an odd whining sound and shrugged.

"Almost. Just let me bring the scanners online and we'll see what's floating around on the inside of your head." Hazil walked over to his desktop computer located away from X and Cain, then promptly sat down and began to type in the necessary commands. He looked at them for a moment with a grin, then hit one final command.

"All right. Now we'll see what's ticking inside of your skull, doc!" X looked over to his mentor and waggled his eyebrows.

"Think he'll find anything interesting?" Cain fixated a disgusted look on his protégé and made a tsking sound.

"Doubtful. All I think about these days is my bowel movements and my liver spots." X scrunched his face up and held out a hand.

"Stop, PLEASE." 

X and Cain were so busy hemming and hawing with each other, they never once bothered to look over and see what Hazil's facial expression was doing.

If they had, they would have seen his mouth drop in shock as his eyes danced with fear. The mouth closed a moment later, but Hazil's head began to swing back and forth disbelieving.

"No…it can't…not even possible…" Hazil hit a diagnostic toggle and checked to see if his computer had been corrupted.

All green. The data his monitor was showing about Cain was dead accurate.

And it was far from promising.

"Cain…" Hazil began softly, his voice so wrecked it seemed like a croak. Cain stopped himself in midsentence to X and looked over to Hazil with a puzzled stare.

"Yeah, Haz?" Hazil shut his eyes for a moment and drew in a huge breath of air, which he let out just as fast with a ragged pace. Then he opened his gray orbs and stared into the eyes of James Cain.

"Cain, you're going to die." Cain raised an eyebrow as his heart began to speed up.

"Whaaaat…" X narrowed his eyes.

"You're not playing a trick on us, are you?" Hazil bared his teeth, glad to be able to eliminate his stupor for rage.

"I never joke about death, X. And Cain will die."

"From what?" Cain asked softly, his hand reaching up to the side of his head as if he already knew the answer. "Is it…cancer?" 

"That I know how to treat. But this…" Hazil shut his eyes again. "I don't suppose you two gents have ever come across a condition known as an aneurysm, have you?" X blinked.

"A bloated and worn out blood vessel, capable of bursting and causing massive strokes and death?" 

"That's what it is, all right. And Cain has one." 

"There's been other aneurysms like his before…they were all safely removed in those patients." Hazil raised a finger to X's response.

"True…but their aneurysms were always close to the surface of the brain. Cain's is special…it's smack dab in the middle of his fleshy gray right hemisphere. And that's why he had all those headaches, too…it was expanding against his flesh and causing massive migraines." Hazil's eyes began to glimmer with tears of rage.

"This is one thing I can't treat. It's too weak to be targeted by sonic disruption, and I can't dig in there and remove it…not without destroying Cain's higher brain functions and turning him into a drooling potato." 

Cain let his head droop as his shoulders hunched forward.

"So that's it then." He said quietly. "After all that I've been through, I'm going to be killed not by Sigma or the Mavericks…but by a freakin blood vessel in my head that didn't know when to stop growing." 

Hazil, X, and Cain couldn't bear to look at each other after that.

They couldn't even speak.

Death breeds silence…

And theirs was deafeningly quiet.


	6. A New Stratagem

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER FOUR: A NEW STRATAGEM

God, there were a lot of reploids in the world. 

Tall ones, short ones, ones of every color…some that looked liked extinct animals, those who resembled more domestic critters of the world today. Some looked more robotic than others…

And then there was the worst kind of reploid. The one that looked HUMAN. The worst abominations. Those were the reploids that he liked to destroy the most.

It had been a while since he and his partner had been allowed out to do some general 'weeding' of the world. The last time he had, a certain reploid in Tokyo that was later identified as Canark had died.

The hooded and cloaked figure narrowed his eyes, gripping his beam staff tighter. That particular mission still angered him. That Maverick Hunter—the one with the brown hair and Arabic features…

He didn't know that Hunter's name. And he didn't care to know it. Names were meant for people you cared about. Like his partner, Tim. 

He blinked and brought himself back to his senses, just in time to hear the horrific dying screams of another reploid. A grisly grin smirched itself onto his face, although no one could have noticed through the dark fabric that hid his face.

His partner Tim pulled back the dark purple and black tinted beam staff from the still twitching body of their most recent reploid kill. 

This one had been incredibly alluring, with raven black hair and pleading hazel eyes atop bronzed synthskin that seemed to shine like the very twilight sun itself. She had not been built for battle, and when they had tracked her down she had just left from a photo shoot. According to what they had surmised, she had been a model.

Had been. It was an abomination…no reploid should look as…humanly beautiful as she had.

It was a simple matter to activate their 'berserker beacon', focus it in on her and watch with the never waning sick pleasure as she panicked at an unknown foe, charging through the streets until she reached a dead end…a barren dead end with no witnesses.

Her forehead was now a sick and twisted nightmare of what it had once been. The flesh had burned away, the hair was singed…and the silicon and metal of her skull, mind and control chip now existed as a steaming pile of molten slag. 

One less reploid. Tim sighed for a moment and extinguished his blade.

"Come on then, Geoffrey." The hooded figure nodded, then tucked his own blade away. 

The two turned away from their target and quietly slipped their beam staffs into the dark confines of their cloak. Geoffrey and Tim…

Two names that meant nothing.

Their presence meant death.

No reploid was safe now. 

"Come on. We might as well report back to base and see how the other teams did on tonight's hunt." 

They were most definitely human. No reploid in their right mind would commit slow genocide of their own race.

Mavericks at their worst killed the weak and enlisted the strong.

No, these were humans.

Genocidal, barbaric humans.

And then the metallic devices on their wrists began to blink softly in three tones…

It surrounded them with light, and dissolved them.

The cloaked humans, Geoffrey and Tim vanished into the fury of warp signals, blasting free from the ground and streaking up into the sky on their way home.

But that was impossible…warp technology was not advanced enough for human transport! Only robots and reploids and cargo transports could utilize it…

But the impossible seemed to apply then.

Humans could now warp. And the greatest threat to the reploids was not Sigma…

But the hidden teams of genocidal humans walking about.

Doan had just got back from a satisfactory run in the holographic training room. Although he was a recognized member of the 17th Unit, X had come to respect him enough to realize that Doan was and always would be a loner. It was just who he was, a person who had walked alone for so long in life he found it difficult to change the practice.

But for a person who walked alone, he was not a complete loner. He would place himself in a crowd of people, and then just space off. 

The cafeteria served that purpose well enough for Doan. He sat off in a corner of the room, tilting his seat back and leaning against the wall, bobbing his head up and down slightly. He kept his left foot dangling and used his right one to brace himself against the table he sat at. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he watched the rest of the cafeteria with a cross between indifference and caution, and every once in a while he would raise his ceramic mug up and take a sip of his lemon herbal tea. 

His calm demeanor was as much of a mask as his stoic mood. And if there was one thing Doan was famous for in the Hunters, it was that rarely did the other Hunters EVER know what he was thinking. Maybe Wycost…but he wasn't here. No, last time he checked in, the mean green was out in Denver still.

Doan blinked for a moment, then slightly tightened the muscles in his mouth…Bastion was coming in.

"Looky what's coming my way. A lonely desert walker." Doan slipped down from the floor and set his chair on all four legs, quietly placing his tea on the table.

Bastion came in, his basic armor on but without the jetpack that had replaced his original Powerstorm.

"Bastion." Doan said as the Hunter came closer. He picked his tea back up, leaned an arm on the table and sipped another swig. The brown haired Hunter ruffled back his mane for moment, then harrumphed.

"This seat taken?" Doan shrugged slowly. Bastion sighed and sat down. He looked over, trying to establish eye contact with the multigray shaded reploid. But Doan wasn't looking at Bastion, and didn't give any indication he would.

"I got your letter." Bastion said quietly. Doan sipped some more tea and then placed his cup on the table, empty at last.

"Glad to hear it, Bastion." Doan clipped back. Finally, Doan looked up and focused his dim gray eyes on the blue orbs of Bastion. He slightly raised one eyebrow. "And I assume that's why you're here. To try and learn more?" Bastion nodded.

"That's one reason. Have you?" Doan sighed, then frowned and pushed his teacup away from him. A hovering server 'bot came by and filled his cup up again, and Doan took another sip before continuing on.

"Funny thing about Wycost, Bastion. Maybe you already know this about him, but he's not the type to stick to a schedule. He calls when he feels like it. Everything I know has been given to you in that letter." Bastion clenched a fist up.

"Great." Doan took a sip, then snapped his fingers at another nearby server 'bot. It hovered over and Doan looked to Bastion.

"Want something to drink?" Bastion shook his head.

"Not thirsty." Doan shrugged and the 'bot moved on. Doan thrummed the table with his free hand for a moment, then spoke up again.

"You feel helpless." Bastion wrinkled his nose up and placed his fist on the table.

"That would be a huge understatement, Doan. She's out there…and even though I know Wycost is on her trail to keep her safe…"

"You'd rather be there." Doan finished. Bastion nodded, then drooped his head. Doan shrugged and sipped some more tea, then cleared his throat. "Bastion, between the two of us we've known Wycost for damn near all of his life. And I'm sure that the one thing we can both agree on about our Bronx Bomber is that HE NEVER GIVES UP." Doan paused for a moment, then pushed on.

"That guy has been through more Hell than any of us hopefully ever will. He's been infected twice, been witness to hundreds of deaths and caused most of them…he's been shunned by his peers, alienated because of his demeanor and denied advancement in the Hunters. I've been through my own rough spots…and been changed into who I am now because of it. But quite simply, his SANITY's been sacrificed at times. No matter what we've been through, we always knew who we were and what we were about." Doan shuddered lightly for a moment, and his voice grew more bitter.

"When I used Revenant on him…I nearly lost myself. Other uses of Revenant have caused pain. That time with him…" Doan shut his eyes tightly, and Bastion saw Doan's teacup begin to crack as the Hunter gripped it tighter. Finally, Doan sighed and opened his eyes. The hollow sorrow had returned to them.

"Wycost LIVED in Hell for the longest time. And he's come out of it. This trip is his penance…his ticket from the darkness. And trust me. He won't fail you. Bristol will come back alive, and when she does, Wycost will be with her. Restored…whole." Doan thrummed his fingers on the table again and sighed.

"Well, you've successfully managed to make me feel morose again." Bastion smiled weakly.

"That's not exactly too hard to do. You've gotta be the grumpiest reploid on base. Wycost at his worse only felt like slugging people across the room." Doan nodded.

"It's the little differences that we know about people that makes it worthwhile." Doan got up and put his cup down, then tilted his head slightly at Bastion.

"Take care, commander. If you feel like talking, my door's always open."

Doan walked out of the cafeteria, arms swinging calmly at his sides. His frown had returned, and so had his moods.

The one thing he found intriguing about Bastion was his Flight Armor. First, the Powerstorm, and later on the Angel's Advantage. Bastion had always been one with the skies, despite his more grounded name. 

The armor was something Doan wished he had. Then he blinked, raising his eyebrows for a moment and shrugged.

"Why not?" Doan said to himself softly. The Angel's Advantage had been made from scrap…and Doan was a high ranking Hunter. 

High ranking Hunters had the option to receive enhancements if they wanted. 

And Doan knew one reploid who could help him out with an armor enhancement.

The most special reploid in the world to him, a worker down in the hangar bays of the MHHQ.

Cleo. His Cleo.

_Time…is merely a state of periodicals created by our inability to perceive everything at once…_

Sigma had had plenty of time to ponder these sort of questions through his many days just lying in wait, one particular program that had controlled and overseen this entire facility. Patience was a virtue Sigma had learned to adopt long ago…patience because he knew that as long as there was another base, another retreat lying in wait for him, it didn't matter how many times his Uprisings failed. Eventually, he would win out. And if the humans decided to punish the normal reploids for his actions, it served his purposes. It meant less individuals who would be left to stand against him on the fateful day of reckoning.

The day of reckoning was not a fixed event, not something Sigma had bothered to mark on a calendar. He knew better than to get his hopes up about it. He was not psychic, and lacked any sense of precognition whatsoever. Perhaps that fool X had one…Sigma allowed himself a smile.

If a program could smile. The computer monitor he looked through would certainly display that particular facial expression without a qualm.

Aah, yes. His monitor.

_My window to a small small world where my dreams can sprout anew._

His dreams. They had long ago ceased to be anyone else's. They weren't Wily's. Wily's dream was a world of suffering, a world where Zero was a rampaging monster that destroyed all in his sight. 

It wasn't Horn's dream, either. Horn's dream had been to use URFAWP to create a world that lived peacefully, reploids and humans coexisting with ease.

And it was most certainly not Light's dream…where robotic beings like X could be allowed to choose their own path in life, peaceful paths that most humans led. 

Sigma's dreams were a sick and twisted amalgamation of them all, just as his personality was a jumbled mess of Wily, Zero, himself, his rage, his scheming, and his psychotic visions of grandeur.

In Sigma's perfect world, all the humans would be dead. Extinct. Erased…to leave the new generation of their children…the reploids…able to live on their own.

And in Sigma's world, he would be their leader. Their father. Their dictator. He would control them, just as he controlled his Maverick Generals. Each and every reploid on earth would be loyal to him alone, serving his wishes for the greater advancement of their race.

_I am a visionary. And visionaries are rarely understood._

There was but one other reploid Sigma knew of whose true and pure dream was close to his. 

_Odd how it should be the Crimson Hunter's lost love._

Iris…yes, that was her name. She was dead now, of course. Her body had been obliterated in the same explosion that had claimed the Repliforce's Final Weapon.

But in a small sense, Sigma felt a lulling, puzzling sense of attraction to her. Bleeding, dying, she had choked out her only wish…her only dream.

"All I wanted…was to live in a world just for reploids…with you…" Oh, sure. She had been speaking to Zero at the time, of course. But Sigma really didn't heed much attention to that little detail.

And Sigma had often brooded over it…secretly, of course. He'd never mentioned it to anyone else. After all, he was Sigma. He was a tyrannic monster, and he had an image to keep up.

But when no one was looking, he would often divert his optic sensory inputs and dig up the photos of Iris. Somehow, seeing that face always made him twinge the corner of his mouth up. As much of a pure smile as he could muster nowadays.

_Like the girl next door…easy to see why Zero would become attracted to her._ Sigma said to himself again. Her image was far too naïve and angelic for his tastes, though. 

If he ever got the chance, he would have to look into dredging up and infecting a Repliforce troop. Just so he could get the schematics on Iris.

A few personal alterations…

And then when the world became his, he could give her her dream.

A world just for reploids. Sigma cackled for a moment and shook his head.

_If I CAN shake my head…odd how even as a Virus Code, I feel the need to perform such…HUMAN gestures._

He looked out onto his buried facility again, and this time he examined all the capsules he saw before him. There were six…

Six very special reploids were hibernating inside of them, awaiting reactivation. Sigma smiled.

His own body still had another day to go before it was completed. And when his was, he would look into activating them.

_I wonder how complete the Maverick recruitment process was…_

Six of them.

He knew what their names had been before, and he knew what he would call them afterwards.

Snaps Torte…Shell Butane.

Pyre Vance…Burst Scarab.

Taurus…Cumulus Bull.

Felicity Prowl…Dash Blade.

Jetstream…Dolph Reach.

And then, the one who would be leader of Sigma's new Six.

Kazok…Kazok Gravor.

At this point, nothing more than the same dormant shells of their URFAWP selves. 

_My children…just waiting to be taught._

Teach them he would.

_One day…_

The game is afoot, X. Your dice were loaded before…but this time I bring more.

You have your monopoly dice.

I bring in the Yahtzee five.

_"Hey, Bristol! Bristol!"_ Bristol turned her head around and blinked a few times as a figure approached. 

"Good morrow, Fannir!" The approaching reploid waved and plugged on a big perky smile as he came closer to her. Bristol couldn't help but roll her eyes inside of her mind. Why, oh why did he have to show up? Anyone but Fannir…odds were he'd ask her out on a…

"Hey Bristol, did you consider my proposition? Me, you, the dance floor Friday night?" Bristol sighed and shook her head. She'd been right again. 

There were times she wondered why she'd been created to look so enchanting. Beating men off with a stick may be a favorite pasttime for other people, but it aggravated her.

"Fannir, I already told you no. Why can't you see that I'm trying to avoid you?" The roguish red and violet reploid gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and waggled an eyebrow.

"Soon enough, Bristol. Just you wait, one day you'll come BEGGING for a date with the man!" Bristol scoffed slightly and shook her head.

"When the loos flush Strawberry fizzy drink, perhaps." Fannir shrugged. Bristol turned her head back down to her datapadd that she'd been scrutinizing for some time as she'd been walking down the hallways.

The hallways of her home. MI9.

Well, in all truth this wasn't all of MI9. It had bases everywhere, almost. She just spent her time in the main complex. 

Fannir looked over her shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

"So whacha working on?" Bristol kept walking forward, still focusing more on the datapadd than her gait.

"Just another little project I've been tinkering with." Fannir laughed a bit and somehow managed to stop himself from slapping Bristol on the back.

"That's our Bristol. A babe with brains. So what's this supposed to be?" Bristol whistled through the side of her mouth, ignoring Fannir slightly.

"It's new Warp Technology. Up until this point in time, only robots, reploids, and inanimate objects have been able to use teleportation…"

"Yeah. Biologics have a habit of turning into piles of bloody flesh if they get transported." Bristol shook her head.

"No longer, Fannir! I've come across an extremely delicate algorithm that narrows down the search pattern even further. If I get this to work, humanity will be able to use teleportation as well as any reploid. The trick is to keep the microcellular bonds intact after reconfiguration. It just takes another pattern buffer and a few more Megs of programming code…in theory, anyway." Bristol tapped the side of her head and grimaced.

"Of course, theory isn't reality. If I was able to make truth from theory, we'd all be capable of hyperspace travel." Fannir chuckled low in his throat and shook his fiery orange mane back.

"Oh, doncha worry, Bris. You'll get it eventually. You're one of MI9's best thinktank techs!" Bristol laughed and nodded her head.

"I guess I am." Fannir shook his head wistfully.

"And you're not too bad on the battleground either." Bristol reached over and lightly punched Fannir in the arm.

"A girl is supposed to know how to defend herself, right?" Fannir winced and rubbed the sore joint.

"Oh, yeah sure…Mind telling me why you hit so hard?" Bristol laughed, a lighthearted laugh that eachoed about the cold metallic walls with an air of grace that always lifted the mood of the room.

"Oh, you're such a marshmallow Fannir. Any limey 'roidhead could mess you up, given half a chance." Fannir nodded with a sly grin.

"That's why I got into medicine. I figure, gotta learn how to patch yourself back up, right?"

They reached the end of the hallway, and the sliding doors that led to the main complex from their current section of the structure, the R&D labs. The electronic eye sensed their movement and easily opened the sliding doors apart so they could walk through.

Bristol was so engrossed in looking down at her datapadd that she failed to notice an approaching figure walking at a brisk pace with a big frown on his face.

They collided together, and Bristol squeaked out a note of surprise as her datapadd clattered to the floor. Bristol's wide eyes went up to see who she'd bumped into, and then she saw.

"Oh, pardon me Mister Cristoph…I guess I'm still a little out of the loop." Bristol put on a weak smile. "Staring at computer screens all day will do that."

Cristoph's response was nowhere near as cheery. He brushed his tousled white hair back and glared his angry gray eyes into Bristol. She shivered for a moment as she could almost feel those orbs burn holes straight through her face. He reached down, plucked her datapadd and forcefully slapped it into her open hand by her waist, then shook his head with a note of extreme disapproval and growled.

"Just watch where you're going, reploid." Cristoph picked up his pace and shoved his wiry body through the two reploids, briskly walking down the hallway to the R&D labs with the same pace that had caused him to jar into Bristol.

Fannir and Bristol watched him tromp down the hallway with his angry gait before they turned around and walked down their own path.

Bristol shivered, unable to focus on her work now.

"Why do I always become so frightened when he looks at me like that?" Fannir bared his teeth and shrugged.

"I'll tell you why. It's because there's a general air of hatred around him. And it's not just you, Bristol. Cristoph is one of the head honchos here at MI9 who's not too keen on reploids." Bristol shook her head sadly.

"Why do people hate our kind so much?" Fannir shrugged.

"Not all people do…just some." Bristol blinked a few times, then shrugged.

"I guess I'd better get going then."

"Flight 2472 to Washington D.C. has arrived." Bristol blinked her eyes sleepily a few times, then got her bearings again.

_I'm not at MI9…I'm on an airliner._ She shivered and shook her head around a bit, clearing the last vestiges of stasis from her mind. Her long blond hair with its pink highlights were still smooth as silk, though.

She got up from her seat and followed the line of people getting off the jet, slightly unfocused from the task as she tried to dredge up that dream.

_That dream was REALITY. That HAPPENED…_Bristol couldn't dismiss that singular thought from her mind. Something was happening…something that was reawakening the lost memories. It began with Cristoph and his final words of MI9. And now she knew where they fit in together.

_Some time before I was found by Bastion…I was an R&D scientist with MI9. And somehow Cristoph was with them as well…An important member, it seems._

But why was she still shivering? 

Bristol stepped through the end of the collapsible tunnel and entered into the airport's terminal. Hundreds of people…and reploids as well…bustled about, all intently focused on their own goals, their own destinations. Bristol drew her blue overcoat tighter around herself, feeling the soothing weight of her locket against her thigh and her beam saber against the side of her arm.

"So, what's a respectable lady supposed to do in this big town?" Bristol rubbed her hands together.

First, lunch. And then she'd do some research. But while her newfound memory was helping her, it also left her ill at ease.

_Just how angry a person was Cristoph? More importantly…_

Just what was he capable of?

The 21st Unit was found in yet another training session, hard at work improving their combat abilities in a holographic simulation.

It was the same simulation that they had run yesterday…when Bastion had lost his edge. And now, without him, it wasn't looking too much better.

Half of the 21st was already in dire straits, 'critically' wounded by the shots of the Mavericks.

And with Airborne Albatross and Blasé Horneck both breathing down their necks, it was tough enough trying to avoid even defeat, much less do anything to lower the Maverick forces.

Maverick controlled tanks rolled across the urban warzone, blasting shot after shot and turning the rubbled structures into scrap. They meant to deprive the Hunters of their cover, and occasionally they would get lucky and take down another bunch.

Holographic and computer generated as he was, Blasé Horneck's eyes glittered with the firefight and seemed to shine in exhilaration.

Oh, but he loved this. He folded his arms and looked down at another Hunter of the 21st Unit running crazily, dashing even in a vain attempt to outrun a tank's gunfire. Blasé shrugged and lifted his right hand up, changing it into a Buster and firing off a shot.

An insect shaped missile blew itself free of his concussion chamber and hurled itself downwards. As it went on, its wings spread out and it became more maneuverable, targeting the Hunter even more as Blasé followed it with his optics.

The bee missile burrowed itself into the Hunter's back before exploding, crumpling him to the ground as his life was lost. Blasé cackled again, a sick cackle of pure violent bliss.

"MAVERICKS ARE SUPREME!!!" Went his shout through it all. Airborne Albatross hovered down beside him and clacked his metallic teeth.

"Nice shot."

"Ducks in a barrel, Albert." Blasé narrowed his gaze and looked out ahead of him.

"I think there's only one big group left. A good six or seven, maybe." Albatross shrugged.

"Pitiful. They gave hardly any resistance, you know?" Blasé shrugged.

"There's a bunch of factors that determine it. But these guys were supposed to be pretty good. Something's happened to them, something that's lowered their morale and their abilities." Albatross harrumphed.

"Well, did we see their leader? Bastion?" Blasé shook his head.

"Nope. But you'd know him better than me. For now, let's just keep ourselves concerned with those final Hunters. I wanna get home before my favorite TV show ends."

Jad, Kol, and Gavin were hiding with the only three other surviving Hunters in this training round, wincing as their piece of cover was shredded with shot after shot of angry plasma fire. And with the odds so stacked against them, they were beginning to wonder what had ever possessed them to try and lead the 21st on this trip again.

Without a Bastion to cover them for air support…without their Commander.

A need to, perhaps. Gavin kept his saber low and looked over, growling slightly.

"You do realize we're up shoot creek here, right?" Jad and Kol looked over with knowing stares, then sighed in defeat before nodding their heads.

And they'd specifically set this round up so the simulation wouldn't end until either all the Hunters or all the holographic Mavericks were KO'd. It was looking more and more like there would be one huge checkmark on their permanent record from this encounter. 

"I say we just get up there and go out in a blaze of fire." Jad grumbled angrily. Gavin shook his head tersely.

"Not what Bastion would do."

"Bastion's not here, is he?!" Jad snapped back angrily. "And if I recall correctly, the last time we did this he was the one who got KO'd." Gavin's eyes dimmed out for a moment in shock before he shook his head.

"Yesterday you were helping me defend him." Jad shrugged nonchalantly.

"A lot can happen in a day, Gavin." Another round of heavy plasma fire slammed into their barrier, and Jad could feel the shuddering holographic concrete and metal begin to give way. He shook his helmeted head and bared his teeth.

"I don't care what the rest of you do with your remaining time in this session. The way I figure it, if they're gonna knock me out for a day, I'm going to take them all with me!" Kol's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Whoa dude! Don't do it!" Jad shook his head against Kol's protest.

"See you all later…" 

Jad jumped over the barrier and quickly began his mad dash towards the tank, screaming his lungs out and firing blast after blast from his X-Buster. The return fire came soaring back over his head, and only through the intense concentration bred through many many sessions like this one did he manage to keep himself from being knocked into oblivion by a lucky burst.

The first tank close by soon erupted into flames, burned clean through by his incessant rampage. The second tank trailed him with a continuous stream of rapid fire plasma blasts, and Jad deftly darted up into the air, contorting his body so that the energy stream stitched up the side of the tank facing opposite from it, turning that one into slag as well. 

He seemed to be on fire, holding a force within him that burned brighter than any before. Perhaps it was just a deeper sense of determination that gave him more strength.

Perhaps he was trying to prove something.

No matter what, though…the two Maverick Generals were noticing. And they weren't exactly pleased. Blasé tapped the side of his black and yellow head and frowned.

"Here's a new one…he's pretty good. You remember him, any idea who he is?" Albatross shrugged.

"Never seen him before. But he means trouble. Look at him go! He's taking out those tanks like they were last week's garbage." Blasé stopped tapping his head.

"So, do we deal with him?" Albatross lifted his shoulders for a moment, then shook his head.

"Let's see how he fares against the last of those tanks. If he survives…then we'll deal with him. By then, he'll be outgunned. We're airborne…he's stuck on the ground." Blasé blinked once, then let a twinkle blink in his eye.

"Sounds like fun, all right." So they watched.

Jad was truly a fireball in action as he progressed about, and tank after tank fell to his Buster. But he didn't stop. 

And at long last, he realized there was not a single tank left to oppose him. And then Jad looked up for a moment, just in time to see a powerful machine gun round whiz downwards through the air…Jad leapt to the side with the aid of his dash thrusters, but his own late effort proved to be no match. He released a cry of pain as the burst burned through his leg, and then he fell to the ground, defeated at last.

"Just holograms…just…holograms…" Blasé Horneck and Airborne Albatross came down from above, hovering in the air only a few feet away from him. Blasé scratched the side of his head and sighed.

"Another one bites the dust." He turned to Albatross and shrugged. "You wanna off him, Albert?" Airborne Albatross grinned slyly and opened his mouth…

And then he was blown apart by a high intensity burst of electrical energy. Blasé was left stunned for a moment, slightly injured by the shrapnel created from the incredible explosion. And then a new voice gave him reason to break free from his trance.

"No one will be offing any more of my Hunters today." Blasé's head shifted up and his vision panned the sky. It narrowed as he viewed the upper left Quadrant of his vision.

A figure hung in the sky, motionless, save for a pair of wings that folded from a pointed position like turrets and bent back around until they hung loosely off of his back like a butterfly's. His long, dual shaded brown hair with amber highlights blew lightly in the breeze of the late afternoon, and his arms were folded in a position of defiance. His stern eyes glittered blue in the twilight, and his legs draped down from his body, dangling like powerful twigs from a sturdy branch.

Blasé narrowed his gaze.

"Well, well…if it isn't the great Commander of the 21st Himself. And look. He brought his wings. I guess I'll have to CLIP THEM!" Blasé hurled himself from his low position and flew up into the air. 

He stopped when he reached Bastion's height, hovering fifty feet away from him and with a grim gaze on his face.

"So you came back, eh?" Blasé shot out angrily. "Didn't you learn your lesson the last time we tangled? You can never defeat me!" Bastion shrugged and nonchalantly raised his left hand up behind his head, scratching his hair lightly.

"Things were different then, Maverick. I was different." Bastion leveled his gaze and burned his fiery blue orbs into Blasé's skull. "Depression can have a serious effect on people…no longer shall it hold power over me. Which means that for you, Blasé…you should stop worrying about killing me…and start worrying about running for your life. Because if you choose to fight, the end result will be your death." Blasé blinked in surprise, then lessened his shock and grinned back.

He chuckled. He cackled. Then he cut loose and filled the air with a pure shout of insanity. Bastion's eyes didn't waver for a single moment, though. 

It was a ruse, of course. Blasé fired a powerful burst of bee missiles, then followed closely with all engines burning.

Bastion's left hand snapped into action, grasping at the hilt of his purple beam saber, igniting it and bringing it to bear in front of him in one smooth motion.

"All right then, you mongrel Maverick…" Bastion growled lowly, his eyes now fully ablaze. "The Desert Angel is back…And he's looking for retribution."

The bee missiles were fast…Bastion would give them that. But unlike the last time he had tangled with Blasé, he was completely focused.

No hesitation, no second thoughts…just action. 

His purple beam saber snaked out with blinding speed, slicing clean through one and skewering the stabilizer off of another and spinning it out of control and away from him. 

Then he flipped his flight goggles down. Rose tinted crystal lenses slipped firmly over his eyes, giving him a complete field of vision while at the same time sparing them from the tortures of high speed wind. Then he growled.

"All right, Blasé. I've had your two…now take my TWENTY MILLION VOLTS!" Bastion's Wings snapped back and began to shimmer slightly, blinding skylight dancing down their ribbed forms and pushing him forth.

His speed was incredible as he was hurled forth. It left even Blasé surprised, and the Maverick's eyes went wide for a long moment before he hurled himself vertical and dropped his Buster down to try and stitch the approaching Hunter with his missiles.

But Bastion was fast, and he went in a diagonal swath upwards, tracking down Blasé's ever minute movement with pinpoint accuracy and determination. His right hand reached up and grabbed ahold of his second beam saber, pulling it out and igniting the bluish blade.

And then in yet another blink, Bastion was hovering right in front of Blasé, his gaze still grimfaced…And his blades casting blue and purple shadows underneath his eyes.

Blasé wisely chose to blink, then shut his eyes completely.

It was a wise choice because only a fraction of a second later, Bastion drove his two beam sabers in a crosscut that cleaved the once proud and deadly Blasé Horneck into four separate…useless…sections.

And then the simulation ended.

Bastion found himself hovering slightly above the ground, his sabers drawn and active…

And the remnants of the 21st lay all about him, scattered motes in the wind…A force that had taken on too much and suffered for it. He brought his Angel's Advantage wings offline and landed gently onto the floor, then walked over to the close to motionless figure of Jad. Jad cackled slightly, unable to move.

"Hey…thought you…weren't gonna show up today…" Bastion let a small smile overcome his face as he slipped his sabers back into their recharger port.

"I can't very well let my Unit go and kill themselves off in practice, can I?" Jad laughed softly and smiled again.

"Yeah. Sorry, I'd get up, but Albatross pegged me with a shot and I'm finding it hard to move…"

"Simulation wound. How much of the Unit was KO'd?" 

"More than half." Jad responded easily. "Kol, Gavin, me and three others were all that were left alive from their strike." Bastion whistled in amazement.

"We NEVER sustained that much damage before…what happened?" Bastion helped lift Jad to his feet, although it was still dead weight for the most part. The desert Hunter grunted for a moment before slipping his wings away into their storage pack and giving his full effort on holding Jad up.

"Bastion, I think that me and the other two in our trio can make a pretty good point. Without you…without a leader…this Unit fell apart. The reason we flew so well was that we had you there, as an example, as support…as a source of our second winds." Bastion's eyes twinkled for a moment and he grinned.

"You guys missed me that much?" Jad coughed and smiled weakly.

"It's almost to the point where we can't SPIT towards Mavericks without your help. Bastion, we've missed ya." Bastion's eyes misted over slightly, and he blinked them to clear the lubricant.

"It's good to feel needed…" He said finally. He looked around and blinked, shaking the last vestiges of emotional exhilaration free. "Well, we've got almost an Entire Unit who's gonna need to rest up for a while. Including you." Jad grunted in approval.

"I'm not arguing…you're the boss." Jad's simple statement ringed in Bastion's ears, and made him smile again.

_Yeah…I am the boss…I'm the Commander of the 21st Unit._

And I'll be right here when Bristol and Wycost come back.

Bastion had returned.

And the Desert Fire burned hotter than ever.


	7. Forge of The Vagrant

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER FIVE: FORGE OF THE VAGRANT

The phone rang for several moments, all the while aggravating Wycost further. He glared from behind his sunglare glasses and thrummed his fingers on the receiver. He wasn't wearing his white gloves. Didn't need to. Wasn't in combat and keeping them on anywhere else did a number of tipping people off about what he really was.

"Pick up…Come on, pick up…" It was the right time over in that distant time zone…she should be there by now. At long last, he was rewarded by the sound of the phone being picked up off of the hook.

"Hello?" Came the questioning voice. Wycost grinned and drew in a breath, but the voice on the other end suddenly chuckled lowly and stopped him. "Hello, Wycost." 

The leather jacketed reploid scratched his short and spiky black hair for a moment before harrumphing.

"Can't even let me say hello, Tia?" The feminine voice on the other end laughed.

"I'm sorry, Wycost. But it's been a while."

"Are the children asleep?" Wycost was so honed in on Tia's voice that he paid little attention to the fact he was speaking Chinese.

"Yes. The poor dears were just wiped out today…I had to bring them home from school because they both had the flu." Wycost frowned, and Tia continued. "Thank goodness it's just the flu and not that newpox going around…"

"A little strapped for cash?" Wycost ventured. Tia laughed.

"Always, Wycost. Being a single parent is hard. Paying for it is harder." The reploid pursed his lips together and clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Tia." The Asian woman seemed a little confused in her response.

"Sorry for what? It's not your fault that Lon and Kwai are sick!"

"I'm sorry I'm not there to help you." Wycost replied. "I care a lot for those kids…"

"I know, Wycost. I know." Tia said. Silence hung in the air for a moment, then Wycost spoke.

"I'm going to transmit some credits. The money will help you out some."

"No, Wycost. We'll be fine!" Tia protested. Wycost shook his head and spoke softly into the phone's receiver.

"Please, Tia. Just let me help. Just this once." Wycost pulled out his wallet and freed his debit card, sliding it down alongside the phone's account processor and punching in his ID.

It was a simple matter to route a small amount of money over to Tia Xiang's account. Payphones could truly be called such in this day and age. A simple bleep and a flashing green light and Wycost nodded his head. The payment had made it.

"I put in a thousand credits to your account, Tia." The psychic Chinese woman gasped in shock.

"Wycost!" She chided. "That's far too much!" Wycost laughed a bit.

"Let an aging reploid spend his money how he wants. With those children to take care of, you won't be working. And that costs money." Tia sighed and gave up. No way she could convince Wycost otherwise.

"You're too good to us, Wycost." 

"I care a great deal for you all. That's why I sent the money." Tia yawned for a moment.

"But somehow I get the feeling this wasn't the reason for your call, was it? You called me to see if I had any lead on where your friend's lover had gone to next." Wycost shrugged.

He'd expected as much from Tia Xiang, the closet psychic. It was her who had told him to get to New Denver from Hong Kong. A lovely woman, and helpful. But Wycost knew aside from his protective feelings towards her, there was nothing else. He dearly hoped that Tia Xiang had not fallen in love with him.

"Yeah. Any leads?"

"I saw a towering shaft, a great tall man in a big chair, and a reflective pool of water. Ergo, the Washington Monument, Abraham Lincoln's Memorial and that pool by the Washington Monument."

"Washington D.C…" Wycost mused. "Tia, you're a miracle worker, you know that?"

"Just helping out a dear friend, Wycost. And stay safe. Lon and Kwai would never forgive me if I led you to your death." Wycost had to let his eyes twinkle at that. The very idea of him, the twice infected Hunter, bringer of mass destruction and the Bronx Bomber being felled by the forces in Washington D.C. was laughable. But he humored Tia.

"I'll stay safe. So long, my friend."

"May the dragon keep watch over you." Tia replied easily.

The line went dead.

Wycost stepped out of the phone booth and brushed back his black hair again. Then he turned and began to easily walk away into a dark alley before warping. Washington D.C.'s towering Washington Monument was a warp point he had memorized. It'd be easy for him to get to his next destination without wasting his money.

As his glittering green warp trail faded into the horizon of the daylight, a figure on a low building rooftop close to the payphone hit the rewind button on its vox recorder. Its other hand easily retrieved the ultrasensitive suction cup from the payphone's roof, pulling it back in over a thin wire. Then it hit play.

_"Washington D.C…Tia, you're a miracle worker, you know that?"_ The figure laughed, a feminine voice before lifting her red hair up out of her green eyes. Underneath her overcoat, she clenched a gloved hand in triumph, the sunlight glinting off of the hidden metal in her armband.

"Well, well. That wee lad Wycost might come in handy after all. He's going to lead me straight to Bristol, he is." Willow stood straight up and carefully tucked her equipment away. Then she shut her eyes and activated her warp generator.

There were two reploids after Bristol now.

Wycost…and Willow.

The Hangar Bay of the Maverick Hunter Headquarters was large…it was also largely underground. This protected it a bit, while at the same time being the consternation of those who needed to get there fast.

It held countless numbers of Landchaser hovercycles, Chimera Mechs, Kangaroo Mechs, and even Hawk Mechs…as well as the fast moving launch carriers that dragged them around the planet. This of course meant that you rarely saw Hunters plowing through Maverick lines in their armored beauties, but it was nonetheless a force they held for situations where they knew they could arrive in time.

Doan slipped through the hissing hydraulic doors of the Hangar Bay and narrowed his eyes. As he recalled, Cleo and her close knit band of fellow engineers had been tinkering with one decommissioned armored carrier to try and solve the problem of speed. With any luck, they hoped to soon find a way to increase the power and capability of a modified warp generator that would allow the armored carriers to not only warp themselves, but all the craft and reploids within them perfectly to a different location.

The early tests were proving difficult…Difficult meaning that the test dummies of cardboard 'Mechs, Cycles and reploids they placed inside the armored carriers ended up looking like a steaming pile of smouldering tree at the end of the matter transfer. But they kept trying. They still had yet to give it a real test. Perhaps Doan should bring up that request for more help the next time he met with X or Cain. 

But for now at least, he kept his goal clear. He was off to see Cleo, and if she was following her usual daily routine, she'd be in the armor repair shop, busy working and grumbling about some Landchaser that 'those lousy greenhorn stunt drivers wrecked for the THIRD TIME THIS WEEK!' He passed by a few of the other lightly armored engineers that bided their time in the bay, buffing the polish on the Landchasers to a higher sheen. A few looked up at him, acknowledging Doan with wry smiles and crinkled noses.

Oh, they knew where he was headed. Everyone in the Hangar Bay, engineers, maintenance workers and dockloaders knew. Thankfully, they kept it to themselves. Doan didn't know what he'd do if they started blabbing.

Having the world know that he and Cleo had a relationship was not something he particularly wanted hanging over his head. He thought about sighing for a moment, then gave up on the attempt.

And as he finished walking across the Hangar Bay, he found the doorway with the clear pane. The one with the slightly marred title across its length…

'Armor Repair and Detailing.' Doan felt the corner of his mouth twinge up in the beginnings of a smile, a slight one that seemed to lift the usual gloom off of his face. He walked in the door, half expecting a rocket pack to come hurtling across the room and slam into him. That was what had happened the first day he and Cleo had met. 

He took a deep breath, shut his eyes and gently turned the old fashioned doorknob…

Nothing slammed into him, so he eased through the frame and shut it quietly behind him. 

"Cleo?" He asked softly. A clattering from the backroom of the small office, and then a figure emerged.

The room was a complete mess of spare parts, littered about with no semblance and order. Half repaired armor, welding joints, solder, silicon computer boards in static free bubble wrap, and other materials scattered in the room skittered across the floor and snapped under the heavy weight of the approaching figure. She cursed.

"Damn it all…I really need to clean this place up." Doan's smile grew wider. Her voice always cheered him up.

"I'd be more than willing to help…I'm sure we keep a generic emulation of the Storm Tornado somewhere on base." Cleo raised her head up and brushed back her short but stringy light red hair, smiling widely.

"Doan!" Doan couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he viewed one of her blue eyes, enlarged unnaturally through a magnifying glass dangling from a headband. She pulled it off and shook her hair out, then ran over and easily caught him in a bearhug. 

"Nice to see you too." Doan muttered gently, returning the embrace.

For the most part, Doan was a somber reploid, a temperament that went along with being witness to death and destruction since the early days of 2118. More than 10 years ago…

But whenever he was with Cleo, it all seemed to evaporate, like dry ice that had seen the end of its time. It was magical, it was beyond his understanding…

And deep down, Doan knew it was love.

"No, I think I can clean this place up well enough without any spiffy gadgets from the main tactical computer. You'd probably just end up making it worse." Doan shrugged and backed away from Cleo, looking at all her yellow goldenrod armor, the blond hair and the blue eyes. God, she was beautiful.

"Thought I'd offer it anyhow, Cleo." Cleo sighed and shrugged, and Doan continued. "But I came down here for a reason, Cleo…" She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms in a pout.

"Ooh, pooh. Didn't come down here to just be with me?" Doan shook his head sadly.

"Don't have the time right away…but soon, I will." Cleo narrowed her vision, then aahed in shock.

"Your armor…"

"Time to make discussion reality. You up for it?" Cleo nodded her head.

"Basic modified jetpack…along similar lines to Bastion's previous Powerstorm, right?" Doan began to speak, but Cleo silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Never mind, never mind…I'll find the schematics." She walked over to a desk with a chair in obvious disrepair and brushed the few junk pieces off of it, clearing some free space. Pulling a drawer out, she pulled out a mess of rolled up blueprints, examining her scrawl on the edge of one after another with her frenetic blue eyed gaze.

Doan tried to keep the sly grin from wrapping itself fully around his face. Cleo was like this…a brimming vat of natural exuberance that seemed to come out of nowhere. It allowed her to work extensively and for long hours without rest, and it also made her more helpful than a cup of coffee in the morning to others around her.

"Oh, for the love of buttermilk…" Cleo muttered disdainfully, sifting through the wrapped tubules and throwing the useless ones over her shoulder. "Landchaser Mark Three…enhanced shield matrix designs…External Buster suppression cannons…Where the HELL did I stash the schematic of your Flight Armor?" Doan pursed his lips for a moment, then shrugged and walked over, reaching into Cleo's desk and opening up the main compartment, littered with pens, paperclips and post it scrap notes…

And pulled out a picture frame. His picture was in it, of course. Cleo loved Doan, loved to brag about it to her close associates…and loved to show it off. This picture was of particular embarrassment to him…it had been taken by a street photographer, only moments after Doan had bought himself and Cleo ice cream cones, she tripped and ended up spilling it on his head. Somehow his usual stoic and emotionless look fit the situation in that photo opportunity, him calmly looking up at the sky above as rivulets of sticky sugar confection ran down his brown shaggy hair and dripped onto his nose with a delicious Chinese Water Torture.

Of course, Cleo was in the photo as well…and she'd come out of it smelling like a rose. Then again, with that goldenrod dress she had picked out for that very outing, she deserved to. Doan had just dragged out a pair of blue jeans and a gray T-Shirt.

He shook his head and brought himself back to reality, then flipped the frame over and checked behind the image.

Sure enough, he let a small smile cross over his face and pulled out the small sheet tucked with care behind the picture. He unfolded it and put it out in front of Cleo's squinting eyes.

"Looking for this?" Cleo blinked a few times, then grinned a toothy smile and quickly put all her other schematics away back in her desk. She laid the Flight Armor design flat out over the oblong cherry wood surface and smoothed out the creases, keeping either hand on the edge to pin it down completely.

"Doan, you've got a knack for finding these things. Where was it?" Doan stepped slightly behind Cleo and put an arm around her small waist.

"The place you put it. Behind my picture." Cleo wrinkled her nose up and let the smile take over her face.

"Oh, dear…it figures as much." She pointed to the algebraic scrawl in a box by the Flight Armor's main sketch and harrumphed. "So Doan, just to make this clear, you were basing this mainly off of Bastion's Powerstorm Armor?" Doan rubbed his chin.

"Yeah…but I've been thinking if we could also add in some magnetic levitation devices…" Cleo raised a hand up, then turned and looked at him in surprise.

"Screwing with the design?" Doan shrugged.

"It's just that…a design. Magnetic levitation…simple enough. The Angel's Advantage uses that." Cleo snorted.

"Well, yeah…once again, Bastion's. Even I'M not sure how they got that thing to fly. And fly like that…Doan, this is technology YEARS beyond what they should be capable of. Magnetic levitation…I'll be lucky if I can give it temporary hover, and even then I'll be tearing my hair out designing the co-variables. Keeping yourself suspended in midair around the earth's magnetic field is not easy." Doan tapped the side of his head for a few moments, then brushed back his brown hair.

"I may know of a few people that may be able to help…met 'em in the chaos around Sigma's Sixth." Cleo lifted her eyes up.

"Oh? Just who would that be?" 

"A pair of reploids…Calling themselves Allegro and J.K. Horn. I'd tell you to look up Bristol, but she's off on that spirit walk. With my friend Wycost close on her heels. E-Mail would work best."

"Got the address?" Cleo asked softly. Doan shook his head. 

"I know that Cain would. I'll go get it from him." Cleo stood up and folded the schematic away, carefully tucking it back behind Doan's picture and putting the frame in her desk.

"Hold on then, Doan. I'll go with you. I have some status reports he needs to check off on." Doan walked up ahead and turned around, leaning against the doorframe with an easier pose. Cleo made him relax a bit more and loosen his usual dour attitude.

That is until she took a huge step forward and slipped on a bunch of circuit boards, flailing forth and rotating into a 180 that would have caused her to smash onto the ground backfirst. She let out a surprised cry, her arms flailing but failing to find something to support herself.

Doan caught her easily in his powerful arms, holding her steady as she got her bearings. But strangely, Cleo didn't jump from him as she should have. 

Instead, Doan could feel a throaty vibration begin to emanate from her body…purring?

"Uhh…Cleo…" Doan began in slight nervousness.

"Oh, shut up." She muttered hoarsely, wrapping her arms on his shoulders and pulling herself up into an embrace with him.

Doan was surprised…but then again, not particularly. It hadn't been the first time Cleo had pulled this kind of stunt. Breaking her kiss, he couldn't help but let his faint smile grow larger.

"My dear, you entice me…" Cleo rolled her eyes playfully.

"Oh, dear. And all this time I thought I was just thanking you for saving me…" Doan silenced her long sentence with a fiery smooch that left her seeing stars in her eyes.

They held it for what seemed like a blissful eternity to Doan…

That is, until he picked up on the external whooping, cheering and applause in the Hangar Bay. And realized both he and Cleo were out in the doorframe of her office, in plain view of every Tom, Dick and Harry about the area. Breaking the embrace, he quickly turned around as his face turned deeper shades of magenta. Cleo had no such inhibitions.

She stepped forth and swept out a mighty bow for the audience, then grabbed Doan's hand and jerked him out, kissing him again. The reply was like an uproar of approval. Doan was really turning a beet red in discomfort now. Thankfully, they began to walk out of the Hangar Bay, and Doan sighed in relief. Hanging around there any longer might have caused his synthskin to stay that color.

"Cleo, why do you do that?" He asked as the sliding doors parted and they walked out into the hallway that led to the connecting elevator. The blond haired reploid batted her eyes for a moment and grinned.

"Because I like to. And because I know that for all your whining about public uproar, you don't particularly care if they all jump off a bridge in the long run…as long as I still love you." Doan smiled a bit, shaking his head.

Cleo'd had him pegged since day one, and knew him like no other.

Compared to her, Wycost was nothing more than a cool acquaintance.

Which in all reality, the Bronx Bomber was.

"Emilius Cristoph…Born August 17th, 2063." Bristol rattled off absentmindedly. She moved the mouse cursor to the scroll bar and directed the view downwards. There was a picture of him…looked like it had been taken late in his life. She brushed back a strand of blond hair with reddish highlights and blinked. 

"Following childhood in the United States, Emilius Cristoph graduated with honors at Stanford University." Bristol snorted. "Great…he was a rich boy. I wonder if he made captain of the debate team…" She hit his College dossier, grumbling and smacking herself in the face almost as soon as it opened up. "Peachy. Not only captain, he defeated Harvard's debate team as well. What else were you involved in, Mister Cristoph…" 

Her mumbling was quiet. It had to be, seeing as Bristol was located in the Computer Terminals of the Congressional Library. Several other people were also about at the other ports, ranging from old to young. The young tended to be wearing headphones and playing internet games. Bristol smiled a bit.

That particular annoyance hadn't changed since the dawn of the Second Millennium. The diverse grouping allowed her the kind of anonymity that she thrived in.

Bristol wanted to remain unnoticed as possible. The scanners at the door had ID' her as a reploid, and that in itself raised some eyebrows. Few chose to, or had the opportunity to participate in research activities. And up until 2124, after Mega Man X had successfully defended all reploids' inalienable rights to live and be treated as equals to humans until proven to be a danger, no reploids had been allowed in the Congressional Library.

The Capital had provided many interesting sights to Bristol. The Lincoln Monument, the Washington Monument, the White House(She had chosen to avoid that rendezvous for reasons of going unnoticed…) and the famous Reflecting Pool of Forrest Gump fame. 

What was that saying, she thought again?

"Been there, done that…" She shrugged. So she'd seen the sights. It brought her no closer to her goal.

Thankfully, she knew her way around the net. That was digging up a lot of information on Cristoph.

"Became a United States Senator for Philadelphia in 2100…Retired to join the GDC with much fanfare in the year 2112." She frowned. "The man was in the GDC five years before X was even discovered." She hit the 'more info' button, and the screen came up with an error message.

"Odd." There should have been more, but aside from the long rather syrupy monologue about his unwanted death during Sigma's Sixth, there was nothing.

Bristol knew something was up. There was absolutely no mention of MI9 in this. And if this search didn't do anything, no other net searches would. She'd tried all the others in New Denver.

"But…" She brought up the Yellow Pages website. Perhaps if she could find where Cristoph used to live…

Another dead end. He wasn't listed. At least not in the public directories.

"Doesn't mean I can't find him…" She narrowed her vision and accessed the employee's login directory. 

Usually, people were too lazy to create specialized passcodes for employees. They almost always created a generic passcode that they instructed all their employees to use. They also made it incredibly easy to remember. It'd only take a few tries…

*Enter User ID

**_Employee_**

*User ID Accepted. Enter Password

**_User_**

*Password incorrect. Re-enter password.

Bristol frowned. That wouldn't work. But what else would the Yellow Pages…

"No…can't be that easy…"

**_Yellowpage_**

*Password accepted. Welcome to The Yellow Pages Website.

Bristol had to grin, and she even lifted a hand up in triumph a few centimeters. She was in.

**_List information on Emilius Cristoph._**

"Deceased…only phone number listed?" She shrugged. "I'll take it." She had a phone tracer with her, and once she was outside, she'd dial it.

And then, the number flashed across the screen. Success.

Bristol logged off, shut the Browser down and got up from the computer terminal. She'd found what she was looking for here. Slinging her blue overcoat across her arm, she walked on. The security guard at the door…another reploid…gave her a short nod of farewell as she exited. 

Bristol smiled at that. 

The world may have been full of dangers…

But friends came in complete strangers.

"We need something really tangible to tinker with." J.K. Horn muttered, chewing on his pita pocket with a fazed look on his eyes. "I mean, it's a fine thing to ponder theoretical science, but let's get realistic." Allegro looked over from the internet uplinked computer at the far end of the kitchen and gave a small shrug.

"Whatever it is, it better not involve high powered explosives. No way I'm getting around that kind of thing again." Horn smiled a bit and swallowed his bite of food, standing up and pushing the plate away.

"Considering the last project that blew up in our faces, I don't blame you. But I made a promise to myself I'd start making worthwhile contributions to the Hunters, gadgets to help them fight off Sigma."

"Everyone in the world has a beef with him." Allegro muttered, clicking out of a chatroom and turning completely about. "Me especially…his blasted revolution took my brother." Horn watched the grim faced Allegro stare ahead blankly, clenching his fist up and silently screaming at the demons inside of him. Horn nodded silently, then walked over and put a hand on Allegro's shoulder.

"I know. I miss Andante as well. He was a good reploid…dedicated to URFAWP's goals."

"The goals still exist, don't they?" Allegro whispered. Horn nodded.

"Yeah…only the means to get to them have changed. We stop Sigma, we stop the full brunt of the Maverick threat…and the need for the Hunters." 

It was then that Horn's computer began to beep in a series of happy tones…the theme to 'Green Acres.' Allegro turned about and tapped on the computer monitor's desktop display…one icon that looked like an old fashioned snail mail letter.

"Hey Doc…you've got mail." Horn ruffled his young cohort's hair and chuckled.

"Knock off the puns, boy. And open it already! My E-Mail address is pretty well hidden…only viruses, friends and major government officials bug me." Allegro rolled his eyes.

"Well, that's a fine kettle of fish. All right Jules." Horn grimaced at the mispronunciation of his name.

"Don't call me that, Legs." Allegro grinned.

"Point taken." The mail inbox popped up and flashed the message tag and address. "Hey, this one's from the MHHQ. Title: To Horn with Love?" Allegro turned back around and waggled an eyebrow. "Hey doc, you got an affair going on there that I don't know about?" 

Horn promptly rolled his eyes. "Allegro, I'm an old reploid…one of the oldest in existence, save for X. and he's not a true reploid, but discounting that…who in their right minds would consider me sexy?"

"Phyllis Diller, Greta Garbo, Blanche from the Golden Girls…"

"ENOUGH, Allegro…" Horn muttered, tapping the command to open the letter. It was text, with a rather big image attachment…someone had sent pictures.

The two of them read the letter…twice. The image file turned out to be highly sophisticated diagrams.

"The armor's main thruster systems will run off of Doan's primary power core, much like the rest of his internal functions. However, the problem is including minor maglev…minor. I just need enough to keep him hovering, but the electromagnetic calculations are way over my head. Doan informs me that you helped design Bastion's Angel's Advantage armor, which is a COMPLETE Maglev system. It should hopefully be a simple matter to add a hover function to the existing design. The attached file is the schematics for the Flight Armor that I've named 'Archangel.' The thing isn't made via replicator, either. I'm an old school engineer, which means we build it from solid metal. I hope you can help…Once you've got the Maglev Systems figured out, warp out to the MHHQ and head down to the Hangar Bay. Ask for Cleo, and the pit crews'll lead you in. Once again, thanks for your time, and thanks for being there for all of us. –Cleo."

Horn tapped the side of his head for a moment, silently processing the schematics in his mind and puzzling out the specifics. Then he looked down at Allegro.

"Do you know this Cleo person?"

"No…but I do know Doan. He went with us alongside Wycost when we stopped Cairo from being overtaken…and flooded. Doan's a good fighter…and a good friend. I say this is worth looking into and figuring out. Besides, Flight Armor seems a bit more safe than designing explosive shells." Horn grinned from ear to ear, then downloaded the schematic and transferred it over to his replicator folder.

"You go replicate that Flight Armor so we've got a physical structure to fiddle with. I'm going to write this Cleo back a reply and tell her we'll drop in when we've got the maglev systems functioning."

"Rightyo, boss." Allegro said cheerily, trotting out of the kitchen and out of the main house towards the laboratory shed set up beside it. 

Julius Kinnian Horn grinned from ear to ear, scratched his grayish reploid hair and began to type a positive response. He even found himself whistling.

Now, they had a REAL project to work on. And working on projects kept the scientific mind of Horn happy.

Dive Man was a hulking monstrosity, with a tacky periscope headpiece that served no real purpose aside from decoration. He had often wondered in his robotic mind what had possessed his maker, Sergei Cossack to design him with that.

He was not an enigmatic sort, and despite his blocky exterior was very frank and open. Neither was he particularly advanced in his thought processes, not even coming up to scratch against Drill Man.

But that didn't bother him. He, Skull Man and Dust Man didn't hold any real concerns about the other five. They had been upgraded because they were more advanced. The three remaining robots were content to continue their functions around the hidden sections of the Citadel and leave the world be.

There was a saying Dive Man had bothered to look up in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations…

"Ignorance is bliss." He repeated drily. Spoken by someone called 'anonymous,' the robot had found it to explain most things quite easily. Cossack and the other more advanced robots usually smiled or made some kind of emotional response, although why Dive Man could not understand. The reaction he had surmised they were responding with in those cases was something called 'humor.' There were some things that Dive Man would never know. Once again, he used his saying.

Tapping the fourth level main computer online, Dive Man ran a scan of the entire facility. 

In the first level, the only one the public ever saw, Kalinka and Bright Man were currently busy with a tour group of fifteen people…and two seemingly robotic individuals. Dive Man's logic circuits dictated a high chance of them being reploid, a super advanced robot that was capable of human emotion and thought. That was the level of intelligence that his five fellow robots, 'The Foregone Five' as they called themselves were quickly progressing to. Back when Light had been alive, he and Cossack had theorized that given enough time, simple robots could gain sentience merely by experiencing everyday life over an extended period of time. Exposure to the reploids had seemed to speed up the process dramatically for the silicon children of Cossack.

He brought his mind away from reploids and back on the two people he knew in the tour group. Kalinka and Bright Man.

Kalinka was older than 60 years of human age by now. But she had been very careful over her longevity to preserve her body by avoiding harmful ultraviolet rays and harmful chemicals present in alcohol and nicotine products. There had been no cosmetic surgery anywhere in her past, and there were very few wrinkles. Her blond hair held few signs of gray hairs, and her eyes still sparkled as brightly as they did when she was 20. People who did not know her well could easily mistake her for a woman in her early forties. Kalinka had often found that 'humorous' as well, Dive Man remembered. 

She was also very active for her age…and not in the realms of physical activity kept on a tennis court. She was still very attractive, and inclined to be with men more than most women.

That practice had slowed a bit after she had tried to, as most humans would put it, 'put the moves' on Mega Man X a little more than a year ago. Somehow, Dive Man surmised reploid and human anatomy wasn't compatible, at least sexually.

A scan of the Citadel's Second Level also showed green across the board. All systems nominal, and he watched, he also saw that Dust Man was present in that vicinity. It had been long ago that Cossack had removed the many spike traps present in that layer…a devious part of Wily's scheme to crush Mega Man in the 4th Robot Rebellion, they did not hold a place there after Kalinka was freed from Wily's clutches by Mega Man's mysterious brother, Proto Man. He also went by the name of Blues, much as Mega Man was sometimes called Rock. It was mainly a Japanese thing, though. 

The Third Level showed green as well…the third level was nothing more than an extension of the second. It was more precisely a long run across the Citadel's upper levels and spires by use of temporary hoverplatforms, an obstacle course where one false move sent one plummeting many many meters down to the Citadel Courtyard Below.

And the Fourth Level…the one buried underground where natural light did not shine, and the waterways, hidden bunkers and laboratories and power systems were all situated, was where the rest of Cossack's merry crew was located.

Dive Man frowned a bit. As of late, Cossack had been slower pulling himself free of stasis mode, what humans called 'sleep'. Kalinka had also been a bit more concerned about him, and the doctor had been displaying signs of fatigue and a decreased resistance to the chilly sub-basement interior. What that meant, he was not sure of. The doctor was however, between one hundred and 110 years of age…definitely a long amount of time, given the human race's average lifespan of 85 years. Perhaps his system had merely grown too old, and he was beginning to wear down into his final cycles.

Dive Man shrugged. Robotic terms for a human worked for his limited understanding, but it did not explain the true nature behind Sergei Cossack's affliction.

His thought processor shifted gears again as the main computer began to release a series of short lived chimes…a phone ring.

Someone was trying to place a call to the Castle Citadel's secret locale.

Dive Man's logic circuits estimated a high 87% chance that it was either Doctor James Cain, Mega Man X, or Zero, all from the MHHQ. There was also a 10% chance that it was Hazil, the medical technician reploid who had warped into the Citadel's lower levels to upgrade the five Robot Masters for combat in the 22nd Century. There was only a 3% chance that it was a wrong number, or more sinisterly, a trace program by a government organization or the Mavericks.

The odds set, Dive Man brought up the main computer's vidlink and hit the access command.

It was the face of Mega Man X who appeared on the screen, looking somewhat blank.

"Greetings, Mega Man X." Dive Man said blockily. "I estimate that there is a 84% chance you wish to speak with Doctor Cossack." The blue armored prototype nodded his head, acknowledging the truth in Dive Man's words. Dive Man shook his head back and forth. "I am sorry to say he's unavailable."

"Hey Dive, who's on the line?" Dive Man twisted his head back around to identify the oncoming figure. Back from the shadows cast by the fourth level's dim lights, a silver and goldenrod armored four and a half foot figure walked out, a strange turban about his head.

"Pharaoh Man!" X exclaimed happily. The robot raised his eyes up and pulled the fabric away from his mouth, letting a smile fill it.

"How do, X?" The father of the reploid race shrugged.

"I just wanted to see how Cossack was doing." Pharaoh Man's bright expression faded out and he lowered his head somewhat.

"Not good, X." X raised an eyebrow.

"What?" 

"It's the lack of heat down here." Pharaoh Man explained. "He's…he's caught a cold. Pretty bad one, too."

"Oh, cripes…" X gasped. "At his age…"

"I know." Pharaoh Man interjected grimly. "We're all doing everything we can. But Cossack's no spring chicken, and his chances aren't good."

"He's not the only Doc having problems." X replied sadly. "James Cain went in for his medical checkup a while back…he's got an aneurysm buried so deep in his brain it can't be operated on."

"That's not peachy…" Pharaoh Man said easily. "Not good at all. So…"

"We're keeping him calmed down. If his blood pressure goes up again…it'll set him off. Not fun losing your…" X groped with the words, then shrugged.

"Pharaoh Man, Cain was the closest thing I had to a father before Cossack came along. I owe that man my existence…all reploid's existence. If he hadn't come along and dug me up…"

"I know, X. I know." Pharaoh Man replied. "When we heard about you, it was a big deal here. Light, leaving another Mega Man for a new age? We sure felt like old school…but we knew you'd eventually come. Looking for that capsule Light sent us special delivery, and for answers to what life was like back when your true family was alive."

"Yeah." X sighed and pulled his helmet off, scratching at his black hair. "So tell me, Phare. Should I come down there?"

"Yeah." Pharaoh Man replied sadly. "We could definitely use the company. Can you break away long enough to get here?"

"I'll be able to tomorrow. Will that work?"

"Yeah." Pharaoh Man clipped raggedly. "You just keep yourself safe, all right?"

"That seems to be about all I'm capable of these days. Until tomorrow, Phare. I'll bring along some status reports and such for the Foregone Five to review. X out."

The vidlink signal faded, and the computer console dimmed its output a little bit. Dive Man turned up to Pharaoh Man.

"Will he be here?"

"Oh, he will. X keeps his promises." Pharaoh Man replied, slipping his turban back into place. Turning around, he walked back into the gray shadows, clucking his teeth.

"Just hurry it up, X. Cossack's hurting bad."


	8. Reborn Fury

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST **__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER SIX: REBORN FURY

It was time. Another day had passed…it was time.

Sigma allowed his core program a brief smile before he set to work transferring himself to the replicating tubule that contained his new body.

_I'm coming, X…I'm coming for YOU._

The etherlike pseudo reality of existing as free floating data faded again from Sigma…and then his new robotic eyes opened up.

It was being reborn as a reploid, after existing as a mere ghost in the machine that always set Sigma a little off balance. He didn't know why, although he wagered that few other reploids got the luxury of that experience. His optics were blurry…Sigma blinked and focused them.

He was standing in a tubule full of bright green liquid, capable of forming itself into whatever materials was deemed necessary. This…the replicating tubule was perhaps Sigma's great salvation.

And standing was keeping him trapped. Sigma formed a fist out of his left hand, then grinned as four sharp TitaniTefloalloy claws sprung from the back of his wrist gauntlets, extending out beyond his knuckles. The ultimate in fisticuffs, as it were. Perhaps Fluid Ferret had been good for something…he'd proven the effectiveness of the design. Sigma's right wrist gauntlet didn't hold the TitaniTefloalloy claws, but instead held a particularly nasty variation of the beam dagger. Sigma had designed this new body of his with that particular device in mind…the beam dagger could explode outwards in fury, growing instantly to the length of a powerful beam saber. A mere thought could split the one beam into three, giving Sigma's right hand a massive rakelike formation of plasma blades with a wide slashing area.

But he could test that out later. He needed to free himself of the tubule. Violently. Nothing else held the capacity to subside that blasted Virus's first command free from his mind for a while and restore rational thought.

The high density plastic containment unit of the replicating tubule gave way with a wrenching squeak as Sigma's new gauntlet claws slammed through the side. Sigma pulled his claws back, noting with devilish intensity that the greenish electrostatic liquid began to funnel out of the newly formed holes with eager force.

Then he finished the job and completely punched through it, letting the rest of his sarcophagal fluid fall to the floor in a watery slap. It seeped down the slight incline of the concrete floor and fell into the drainage ditch Sigma had designed. No sense in keeping a mess around.

Stepping free of his broken coffin, Sigma retracted his claws and flexed his new body's muscles. He stood at his nominal eight foot height…that almost never changed.

Previous forms he had taken had varied from similar claw bearing yellow armored types to flame firing, shield wielding demons.

This was somewhat an amalgamation…of both previous forms he'd held and the highlights of his Maverick Generals. This form was designed for sheer destruction.

Superadvanced beam dagger, TitaniTefloalloy claw, a set of hovercapable thruster Flight Wings permanently attached to his back, spiked kneecaps, homing missile launchers on his shoulder pads…

But enough about himself, Sigma thought calmly. It was time to reanimate the others…the six that would lead the next great Maverick Strike. And this time, Sigma would use a different strategy.

It was a variant of the Fourth Uprising, he mused. That time, he hadn't tried to coerce his forces to strike out, envelop an area and create a stable environment, thus splitting the deadliest Mavericks apart from one another and leaving them vulnerable. That time, he'd managed to not use his own Mavericks, instead having the pathetic Repliforce take the blame.

And this time, there was no one to take the heat. URFAWP had done that well enough, and now it was gone. Once more, it was Mavericks, and Mavericks alone who would strike the next chord of the symphony.

Sigma walked over to the first stasis tubule, calmly tapping in the sequence of keys that would begin the reanimation process. This reploid had slept long, his body slowly being altered by the Maverick Virus into something more…his armor being altered, weapons systems being added. His name was one that Sigma hadn't changed, but merely added onto.

"Kazok Gravor." Sigma breathed softly. "Awaken…and meet your master." 

The reploid was shades of black, gray, and purple all over, the lights in the underground lab seeming to vanish upon striking his armor.

And then his eyes snapped open, blazing hotly. They were pure red, a blood red that made Sigma smile. Ferocity of pure decimation shone in that color.

"I am Kazok…" The reploid began haltingly, pulling himself free from the capsule and uneasily shifting about. Then his jaw set and he frowned. "Kazok Gravor. Maverick General." Sigma grinned. The process was a success.

Kazok had once been a shining star in URFAWP's ranks…until Fluid Ferret initiated him into the Maverick cause. With any luck, the long slumber and Maverick immersion had overriden his memories of the former life. That could get in the way if the fool held doubts. Wycost was the ultimate example of that.

"I am Sigma." The Maverick leader said sternly, looking at the Maverick General. "Do you recognize me?"

"Of course." Kazok replied firmly. "You are my leader."

"Good." Sigma replied. He turned about to the other stasis capsules and began the five other reanimation processes. "You have been in stasis for some time, Kazok. Undoubtedly there will be some blank spots in your memory. Do not worry about them…those are just going to exist, no matter what. But you should be able to see your weaponry, at least. Can you bring them online?"

"I can try." Kazok replied. Instantly, his right arm began to quiver and shift in the air, morphing into a powerful plasma Buster. 

It was however, a series of Energen Crystal pods that separated from about Kazok's waist that was the biggest surprise. Bright purple beams of lightning light snapped out angrily and connected to the six pods from one another as they swiveled into a hexagonal formation and began to spin about Kazok.

Within less than a second, Kazok was floating in the air, his legs twisting in surprise.

"What the devil--?!" He shouted in surprise. Sigma turned and looked on amusedly.

"I see you found your antigravitational stasis pods." Kazok shut them off with a mental command, and was quickly lowered back down to the ground, the pods shutting off their connections and sliding back onto his waist. "Their power source is Energen…recharges from your main fusion generator. They are capable of suspending themselves and you in the air, giving you almost limitless abilities of flight. And in more serious situations, you can charge them up paralyze foes to eliminate them. That Buster on your hand may be moderately normal, but it is devastating when a foe cannot dodge."

Kazok flexed his left arm and grinned. 

"Nice." Sigma nodded, punching in the final keystroke.

All five other stasis capsules opened up, releasing small puffs of pressurized air out into the underground base's main air supply.

Five dazed figures stepped out of them. Five more Maverick Generals to Sigma's cause.

A reploid with Dolphinlike features and overly large wrist gauntlets.

A female class feraloid.

A massive stub nosed Maverick that snorted from his Bullish face.

A turtle reploid with jagged red armor paint.

And an odd hunched over figure bristling with explosive launchers of every variety. Sigma raised his hands above his head in a sign of welcome.

"Good day, my Mavericks. You have at last grown awake to the new world…a world that you all shall change with my help." Kazok snapped his fingers.

"I think if we're going to obey this nagging command to destroy, we should first improve our chances of following the third command. Survive. Mind if we get some battle training in first?" Sigma nodded his massive bald head.

"Indeed, that was what I was going to suggest you do first. You will be the forerunners of the Seventh Rebellion…Kazok Gravor, Dash Blade, Dolph Reach, Cumulus Bull, Burst Scarab and Shell Butane." Sigma turned and walked in a different direction, beckoning them to follow. "But I have learned much from my past six attempts. And one thing I know now is that dividing the Maverick Generals to hold possession over different areas leaves them vulnerable. What you all shall do differently…where you shall succeed where others failed…is that you shall not venture alone. You six will learn to function as a cohesive team. You will find your weaknesses, and eliminate them by relying on the strengths of your group. No Mega Man, no Zero, and no Maverick Hunter PERIOD, shall stand a chance against you. The Seventh Strike shall not hold a true goal of domination. You shall not try to hold a distinct area. Where you walk, only destruction shall be bred. The objective I give you is to strike fear wherever you go, to prove that the Mavericks are truly and forever invincible."

The six Maverick Generals looked at each other, exchanging glances of surprise, confidence, of uneasiness.

But mostly a desire to destroy.

That was the cost of being Maverick.

"So what's the damages, doc?" Bastion clipped lightly. Hazil frowned and pulled back the futuristic Medical Scanner, then wiped back his grayed hair and shrugged.

"Pull those wings of yours back in before you hit somebody, and then I'll tell you."

The door to the Medical Bay opened with its usual hiss, parting to let Zero come tromping in with a full stack of portable datapadds. His blond ponytail swung back and forth as he grumbled with the box of reports.

"Hey Hazil, I got those checkup reports for the #0 Unit for ya…" Bastion swung about with a big grin on his face and waved.

"Hey Zero!" But he still hadn't pulled his wings back in, a fact Hazil made all too clear when he cried out and ducked underneath a Medical Cot. His tray of scanning utensils scattered to all corners of the room, and the unwitting Zero went flying as a massive wingtip slammed into his side, sending both him and his box full of medical reports flying in all directions.

For a few moments, there was silence aside from the clattering pieces of debris. Then Bastion visibly blushed and shook his head.

"Uh…Sorry." He quickly retracted his wings back into the main power pack.

Hazil pulled himself back to his feet and let his calm eyes dance over the damage caused by a second's foolishness of unawareness. Then he sighed and folded his arms.

"Bastion, you can forget the lollipop." The doctor turned his head to Zero. "How you doing, Crimson?" Zero shook off the minor fall and set to work picking up his datapadds, letting out a Swedish curse before responding in coherent English.

"Oh, fine. Just trying to get these back in alphabetical order now, which isn't easy when you've got a group of five who SWITCH NAMES ON YOU. I doubt highly that there's a reploid in my unit who had the misfortune to be named Amanda Hugginkiss."

"Or Hugh Jass?" Bastion said with an upraised eyebrow. Zero grinned.

"Hell, no. That's what I called myself once for a prank." Hazil cleared his throat loudly and tapped on the side of a Medical Cot.

"ANYWAYS. Bastion, you're doing fine, and it seems whatever melancholy situation had you and your Hunter rating down in the dumps has vanished. Your internal systems are working fine, and my beam staff design is still functioning as good as the day I handed it to ya as a growing up present." Hazil rubbed his chin. "About the only possible thing I worry about with you is that Flight Armor. It's next-gen, and there are times I even wonder what possessed me to help out with it. Basically what concerns me is the condition of those battery cells that keep the sucker running. They may be rechargeable, but they won't hold up forever. At some point, they'll need replacing, and probably within less than half a year at my best estimate." 

"So it's a high maintenance armor."

"No, just the batteries. The rest of it is incredibly durable. INCREDIBLY." Hazil said poignantly. "That armor set took a direct hit with high impact chaingun rounds during your run-in with Airborne Albatross three weeks ago, and yet you came back smelling as fresh as a rose! There weren't even pockmarks on the surface of it." The doctor sighed. "Well, no matter what, that suit will serve you well. But if you want to make it a more permanent addition, I could hook it up to your main Fusion Generator. That way, it won't need replacing of power cells." Bastion harrumphed.

"Yeah, and then it also will be forever stuck on my back. Sorry Hazil, no dice. I like the portability of it. I'll take the power problem as a part of the package." Hazil shrugged.

"No sweat off my nose, Hunter." He turned to face Zero again. "So! Got all those reports ready?" Zero looked up from the ground, a fistful of reports in both hands.

"Kinda. Here, review those while I pick up the rest." Zero snapped his hand out and pulled Bastion's leg out from underneath him, grinning devilishly as the leader of the 21st Unit yelped. "Oh, no running away Bastion. You helped make the mess, you're sure as shootin' gonna help clean it up."

"Who wants ice cream…" Bastion breathed annoyedly.

High above the city streets of Washington D.C. below, high priced apartment suites and penthouses lay about the crowded suburbs. This was where the high and mighty bigwigs of the Bureaucratic elite lived…

This was where Emilius Cristoph's residence was, according to the tracer program's tally on Cristoph's unlisted number. Bristol grinned. One little piece of technology she found herself capable of constructing back at the MHHQ during her short stay there had been that phone tracer. She never knew it'd come in handy this soon.

Of course, what had been the odd part of it all was finding a way to get to the to the top of the building unnoticed…Cristoph's room was on the roof.

What she'd ended up doing was going to the fifth floor by elevator and then approaching the ever present hallway window. Opening the hinge to the window pane, she'd climbed out of it and begun the long process of hopping up the side of the building.

She'd left her dash thrusters offline for most of her travels, but for once Bristol had been grateful that it was a fused part of her systems. Activating their systems, the reploid seeking MI9 found it much easier to traverse the building's side, arming a gauntlet's grappler claws for aided traction.

Bristol was more amused at how her blue overcoat ruffled behind her like a long cape as she progressed up the side of the tower, bouncing off of it like a pumped up grasshopper.

"No wonder reploids had to be removed from the olympics…we'd break all their records!"

It was short work of it all, and about a half minute later Bristol finally shut off her dash thrusters and landed solidly on the building rooftop. Her blue overcoat fluttered to a halt about her thin body as she crouched lowly, both to lessen the strain on her leg joints and to hide from whatever sensors might be scanning the perimeter.

Pulling out her purse, she removed a scanner device and clicked it on, running its robotic sensor eye about in front of her.

It showed all in the clear. There were no monitoring devices about here, and no electronic alarms on the walkout window in the late Cristoph's penthouse. 

"Safer than sorry." She shrugged. Tucking the device back into her purse, she pulled herself to a normal stance and walked forward. "Mister Cristoph, forgive the intrusion, but I've got questions…and you're going to answer them, regardless of what you think of me."

Doctor James Cain sat in his room, gently rocking back and forth in his reclining chair with his walking stick lying across his lap. The blue room lights were dimmed somewhat, and his goldfish, Sigma II swam about the fishbowl constructed out of Armored Armadillo's shell. 

This was the quiet dim that Cain surrounded himself with…his own secluded spot away from the bustle of destruction, recruitment and training that came with being a part of the Maverick Hunters. 

Although for once, it offered him no solace. Cain was a man who had been handed his death sentence…living on borrowed time, he felt the need to do something…SOMETHING…so that when the time of passing came, Cain could be remembered for something besides being the father of a troubled race.

"I wonder how the fates look down on me." Cain mused sadly. 

He had never had children of his own. His wife Katheryn had died two years after they had been married, lost in a horrific car accident. People had often said that James Cain had never shown any public signs of depression or grief. That cast him both as a stalwart individual and an uncaring boor. "Katheryn…Forgive me." 

After her death, James Cain pushed past his pain the only way he knew how…by completely immersing himself into his work. In the fifteen years following that tragedy, Cain made some of his biggest discoveries in the field of archaeology. His fame grew, as did his own fortune. One expedition had failed to dredge up any historical tidbits whatsoever, but had resulted in a rather sizable pocket of Energen Crystals. The wealth from that discovery was divided equally of course, but Cain still got enough to live in comfort.

But comfort was not something he wanted. He wanted to never stop…for when he did, the depression could set in. He never went to a doctor, and never got a prescription for his moodiness. That was because he never showed it openly.

He dug into his pocket and removed the picture of his wedding.

"So long ago…a lifetime before." He was young in that picture, 23, fresh from College, one impressive discovery under his belt and with shining prospects for more. Katheryn had never looked so beautiful as she had on that day, her brilliant brown hair dancing about the white fabric of her wedding dress, their hands intertwined in a bond of love as the photographer snapped the picture.

While James had studied archaeology as a major, his adoring wife had revelled in the field of robotics, addicted to schematics and wiring. The creations of Thomas Light had an enormous influence over her, and her greatest hope was that someday she could be as well known as the famed white haired doctor. Robotics had been something she had shown him…

"Oh, Katheryn…" Cain sniffled sadly. "If only you knew…" He clutched the picture to his chest. It was Katheryn that gave him the tools that he would use so many years later. Like a reversed consummation, the wife gave the husband one final gift to bear children.

Children not of human flesh and blood. Children of silicon skin and a highly advanced nanorobotic bloodstream. Reploids.

X was the closest thing Cain had to a son. An adopted son…But nonetheless, a son. 

A son that Katheryn would have been proud of. Cain looked at the picture one final time, then gingerly tucked it back into his pocket. 

"When I die, Katheryn…I'll come for you."

His door chittered. Cain turned his head a bit and blinked with teary eyes. He quickly rubbed a sleeve across them to absorb the salty water and spoke up haltingly. "Enter."

The hydraulic gateway slid apart and a figure walked in. Mega Man X.

"Hey doc." Came the uneasy first words. Cain kept on rocking, his back to the door. X walked in more, and then Cain detected the wafting smell of hot food.

"Brought me something to eat?" Cain ventured easily. X walked out in front of Cain and turned, nodding his head.

"Yeah…one of Hazil's recipes. Tea and sconse." Cain raised an eyebrow.

"X, do you know what a sconse is?"

"Well…"

"No, really! Do you know what a sconse is, because it occurs to me that I have no frigging clue!" Cain sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Please tell me it's got something to decrease this headache, though…" X shrugged.

"Hazil gave me a packet of painkillers to mix in with the tea. Won't kill you, but it'll alleviate your pain." Cain waved a feeble arm to his desk.

"You can put it there." X obliged the doctor, then turned back and sat down on a nearby chair.

"I thought you also might need some company…just what are you doing in here alone?" 

"Thinking, X." Cain replied with a grumble. "Doing what I've always done when I'm awake. Thinking." X lowered his eyes.

"Just what about?"

"What will happen when I die." Cain replied. He lifted his head and looked at the shiny red gem on X's helmet…the helmet of his older brother, given to him as a connection to his past. "I'm the most outspoken human for reploid civil rights…the most outspoken human PERIOD for reploids. When I pass away, who will carry on the torch? Who will protect you and your kind from my people?" Cain shook his head back and forth. "It's been fourteen years since I dug you up…fourteen years since the world was forever changed by a Revolution started by me and your schematics. From 2117 to 2131. And what have we accomplished?" Cain scoffed tersely. "We've had six major Uprisings led by Sigma, a continual threat from self proclaimed Mavericks in general, a philosophical debate that had we lost, could have ended reploid kind's existence seven years ago, the downfall of countless bystanding organizations, the deaths of thousands of innocents…"

"Enough, Cain." X prodded gently. "I get the picture. We've gotten by before…we'll get by now. Just don't worry about it."

"But I do." Cain protested feebly. "I worry about everyone here. Zero, Hazil, Bastion, Doan…and you…" He looked at X with deep needy eyes. "You, X…You I worry about the most. You were torn from a peaceful existence…Zero may enjoy being a Hunter, but you…"

"Easy." X said sadly. "I've moved past the pain. I fight now to put an end to Sigma. Because when I do, then I can live. Then all reploids can live in peace. Cain, you've always been like a father to me, and…" X froze in midsentence as Cain suddenly exhaled a breath of air in an explosive outburst.

It was followed by more…James Cain was laughing. "What's so funny?" X prodded in confusion. Cain let his teary eyes glitter.

"I was about to say you were the closest thing to a son I ever had."

The two stared at one another for a long moment after that. No more words were spoken.

They didn't need to be.

"Don't die on me, Cain." X said finally. Cain smiled.

"Go keep an eye on the Hunters. I'll do a fine job of watching out for myself."

X smiled back and bounced out of the door. As he left, Cain folded his arms and leaned back into his seat, still smiling.

As he fell asleep, he could swear there was another person in the room with him. But X was gone.

"I told you you'd be proud of him, Katheryn."

"All right…yeah, I can see it." Allegro said, squinting through a magnifying lens in his left optic. Horn harrumphed and moved the armor's wing to allow him a closer view of the internal wiring.

"Great. Now, you see how this provides the structural basis for the maglev hover function?"

"Seeing it is one thing. Understanding it is something completely else." Allegro sighed, ripping the eyepiece off and rubbing at his optics. Horn had been trying to teach him theoretical electromagnetics for the past hour, and none of it was sinking in. It just wasn't in his abilities. 

Julius Kinnian Horn folded his arms and plopped back into his seat, resigning the task away for the moment.

"I suppose I'm on my own for the maglev systems then."

"Let me work on installing the thruster fuel cells and recharger packs and we'll call the task even." Allegro shot back hopefully.

"All right." Horn motioned to Allegro with a weary right hand. "Hey, can I see that beam weapon of yours?" Allegro raised an eyebrow.

"What, after I almost killed you with it?" Horn rolled his eyes.

"I'm not looking to return the favor, Allegro, I just wanna see it." Allegro sighed and pulled his helmet off, shaking out his brown hair.

"All right." He reached underneath his left arm and snapped the clasps loose, releasing the beam staff's silvery cylinder into his waiting hand. He tossed it to his mentor with a soft underhanded throw, and the reploid engineer caught it easily. He examined its surface for a moment, then flipped the ignition switch. One dark pulsating beam of contained plasma lashed out from the bottom end, and Horn quickly rotated it to a horizontal position to prevent the energy blade from slashing through any furniture or equipment. He lifted it gently a few times, then looked up quizzically to Allegro. The former vigilante reploid smirked.

"Yeah, took me and Andante a while to learn how to use it. Push the button once for one blade, then you have to rotate the button to the right along the shaft for the second blade…and hold it there. Once it snaps back, it'll revert to one blade again, and if you release the switch for more than a half second, it'll extinguish automatically." Horn whistled appreciatively, activating the second beam and staring at the fully armed weapon of incredible menacing capacity for a long time. Then he released the switch, noting that it did indeed snap back and push itself free. Allegro folded his arms and grinned.

"High tension, high grade metallic springs. That's why it always sounds the same, and it won't wear out for a long time." Horn blinked his good eye, then shuttered his robotic one…the same as a blink for the odd optic, but nonetheless capable of freaking out people who hadn't been around him enough. Horn tossed it back to Allegro and leaned his chin on a pair of balled fists.

"You're capable of understanding a highly advanced dual beam saber system, and yet you're still unable to grasp the concepts of maglev?" Allegro shrugged.

"Hey, working it was the easy part. HOW it functions is beyond me, and the only thing I know is that it's high intensity metal. It can withstand a high intensity plasma torch without so much as a scratch…one time, we held an acetylene to it for five minutes, and all we got was a black scuff that came up right away. I wager it's made of TitaniTefloalloy." Horn raised an eyebrow.

"So you didn't make it?" Allegro clapped his hands together and nodded vigorously.

"You just won the booby prize, Doc! Correct. Andante and I FOUND these things…amazing what a box marked 'engine parts' with a destination of somewhere in the English countryside will get you." Horn rubbed his chin.

"Odd…couldn't have been a Maverick transport then."

"Yeah, but someone was transporting next-gen technology." Allegro said calmly, slipping the cylinder's safety back on before slinging it back into place under his arm and snapping the clasps shut over it. "We never did find out who. We just kinda…well pardon the expression, 'took the money and run.'"

"Interesting. And no one came after you?"

"No…I suppose whoever got that shipment didn't notice. I mean, it looked like there were about five hundred devices like the two we took in that one crate. Then the train security got wise and started making noise on their way back to baggage, so we just skedaddled the way we came before jumping off the side of the train and sliding down a steep muddy incline. Thank goodness there was a river underneath us." Horn frowned.

"But what were you and Andante doing in England? You were both assigned to the Greenland URFAWP recruitment and training base!"

"We were sent off on a special mission to England, Doc. Weren't told why, but we wouldn't question orders." Allegro's eyes darkened. "It was later we learned it was all a giant trap. Andante and I escaped before that Maverick…Fluid Ferret, wasn't it…struck out with that paralyzing shower of his. The rest of the recruits on that hovertransport weren't so lucky." 

Allegro grew silent for a moment, then rubbed his eyes and sighed. Horn scratched at his whiskered chin.

"No, I never sent an expedition to England…that was without my knowledge." Allegro wasn't paying attention. He was musing.

"Those were good people that we lost to the Mavericks…Felicity Prowl, a sultry feraloid, Vance, an animal reploid who had the terrible misfortune of looking like a beetle…and Jetstream, the funkiest fishface ever to grace my sight. All of them were caught in Ferret's hypnosis." Allegro cackled sadly. "The biggest fear that we held was…"

"That at some point in your campaign to prevent the Mavericks of URFAWP from getting to the world…you'd have to face and destroy them."

"That would be it." Allegro replied sadly. "Even now, there are times I wonder if they're still alive…and if they are…" He shook his head and picked himself up.

"I've gotta stop doing this flashback thing, doc. Okay if I get back to work on installing the fuel packs?" Horn nodded.

"Yeah. Do the saber recharging ports while you're at it. And remember to make one larger than the other…this Doan fellow it seems, wields a very distinct and elongated beam LANCE." Allegro rolled his eyes.

"Oh, they all gotta be different." Horn grinned.

"Of course. That's what keeps the challenge fresh."

Cristoph's penthouse was pretty normal compared to any other residence Bristol could compare it to. There was the usual amount of pictures of Cristoph shaking hands and smiling with political bigwigs and celebrities…something that'd never change, Bristol supposed…

There was a refrigerator in the kitchen, although it had been cleared out. All perishable items were gone from the apartment, period. The door that led to the elevator was sealed shut, with police tape draped across the frame to prevent entry. Bristol grinned. No one suspected a person might enter from the building rooftop.

About the only thing that was left turned on was Cristoph's computer…and the mailbox was open. Bristol frowned and walked over to it.

"Odd…" She brought the mouse cursor about and tapped into the old message archives. Perhaps…perhaps something in this would lead her to MI9. 

Brushing back her blond hair with red highlights, she scanned through it.

"Spam…spam…spam…A GDC general announcement…salutations from fifteen different Senators…" She froze. Here was one message dated approximately four weeks ago…

"No subject…text only…source unknown?!" She tapped onto that one. What she found…puzzled her, and also perked her ears up in interest.

_The little pig is hiding in the brick house._

"Now what the devil does that mean…" Bristol mused. She rubbed at the side of her temple. Something in that seemed…ominously familiar.

And there was more like them. From two months ago…

_Jill and Gretel loose…the King's Men are on the lookout._

"Ohh, Cristoph…just how deep does the rabbit hole go?" Bristol mused surprisingly. More importantly, what did those messages mean? Three months ago…

_The beanstalk needs trimming. _

"Oh, you are most definitely into something." Bristol growled. Something in the messages seemed so very familiar…so very familiar indeed.

It was then that Bristol thought she heard something. Something…very distinct. 

Something was leaking. She pulled herself free of the computer and decided to run a trace on the final E-Mail. Hopefully, she could tag the source with an advanced program…which she had on floppy. Plugging it in, she let it run and followed her ears.

The sound emanated from the kitchen, and as Bristol approached it, her nasal sensors twinged oddly. She twitched her nose and frowned. Something smelled bad. Like natural gas…

She lifted an eyebrow, ducking her head down behind Cristoph's stove.

Sure enough, the gas mane's hose…was whipping about.

The room was filled with natural gas, and there was more where it came from. More surprising was a light timer aside the stove…and it only had ten seconds left on it before the timer ended. It was a familiar one, sitting aside a candle. These were designed to light aromatherapy wax candles when… 

"Oh, God save the Queen…" Bristol wheezed suddenly. She bolted out of the room, knowing full well there was little time. But it was a big penthouse, and she couldn't use her dash thrusters without igniting the already present gas.

Her blue overcoat ruffled behind her like an angry second skin as she made crazy leaps over the various items of furniture about his suite, trying to bolt out at all costs.

But then she froze long enough to remember that her tracer program was still running.

"Damn it all…SOD IT!" She made a powerful jump across the room and landed in front of the computer.

The trace was impartial…it had only managed to route itself to the first major server used to transmit the message.

_Tracing…New York…_

"It'll have to do…" Bristol wheezed despairingly. There was no time to pull her disk back…a loss she'd have to take. 

It was one final bolt jump that sent her hurtling through the air…something in Bristol snapped, much like all the times before that surprise allowed her to hurl bigger reploids through the air and into solid walls.

This time, that instinct allowed Bristol to crumple her body into a ball and slam through the thick glass without so much as a scratch.

She unfolded her body out from the ball, still breathless from the maneuver. Her coat had a few scratches, but was overall in good condition. More importantly she noted with a wandering hand…her purse…and the locket…and Horn's account card…were all still in her possession. As was the pink tinted beam saber tucked underneath her arm.

And then the explosion happened. It was enormous, a thundering concussion wave of flames, intense heat and superpowered compressed air that slammed into her thin body and flung her outwards from the building while knocking the wind loose from her.

She gasped for a moment as it carried her outwards, beyond the edge of the building's precipice and to the long long fall to the city streets below.

"No…" Bristol whispered hoarsely, gritting her teeth. Clenching a fist up, she activated her dash thrusters. She would come out of this alive…

She had to…for Bastion.

With the same tenacity and grit that Wycost had displayed weeks before when he disarmed Nitro Narwhal's bombs on the Aswan Dam, Bristol let out a feral scream and dashed her way through the air, moving away from the flaming wreckage towards the building fifty feet distant from her.

"Come on…come on…" She pleaded with the thrusters in her boots. But they weren't doing it. She narrowed her gaze. "So that's how it's going to be? FINE. Safeties, OFF!"

_Removing dash thruster safeties is not recommended. Continue with procedure?_

"Damn you…YES!"

_Acknowledged. Thrust at your own discretion._

"Sod off…" Bristol growled. "MAX THRUST!" The boots responded immediately, throwing out such a burst of power it jarred her stance loose and destabilized her airborne position.

She decreased it immediately, but nonetheless it left her unable to properly maneuver…and flaming debris from Cristoph's penthouse was still raining about with the best of them.

Chunk after chunk slammed into her, causing her to grunt and curl in tighter. This time with a more stable burst, she flung herself free of the debris shower and slammed roughly into the side of the building she was aiming at.

Even dazed by that blow, she somehow managed to hold on, activating her wrist gauntlets and extending her rapelling claws. The building whined in protest for a moment as Bristol slid down the side, and she finally caught her breath.

"Bloody Hell…" She wheezed. It took a few more moments for Bristol to completely regain her awareness, but when she was done shaking her head, it finally settled in around her.

Cristoph was dead. Now his living quarters were destroyed by a bizarre accident that had almost claimed her life.

And the only clue she had to go on was that Cristoph's mysterious E-Mail transmissions routed from a server in New York.

All in all…

"Situation Normal: All Bleeped Up." Bristol wheezed finally. She began to hop up the side of the building, then winced and clutched at her stomach.

Apparently that debris had done more than she thought. Sure enough, a sharp piece of what had been something metallic had dug into her side and punctured through the synthskin and internal armor.

The damage would repair itself…given enough recuperation.

She was luckier than the building, at least. Its rooftop was completely blown off, a smoking crater of its former glory.

And the sirens below were already beginning to sound below. Fire fighting squads…and the authorities…were going to be here soon.

It was the authorities Bristol didn't want to see that much. She pulled the metallic dagger loose from her stomach and climbed the rest of her way up to the building's rooftop. Bringing her warp generator online, she picked a position on the outskirts of New York City…far from prying eyes. 

"The Wild Blue Yonder beckons…" Bristol said wearily. "Curioser and curioser…" And in all of that murky ether in her skull…MI9…her instincts…Cristoph…

She couldn't help but shiver. Like there was something terrible she would find. Like MI9 had been destroyed…or it had never existed at all.

Was it all the musings of a madman…pseudo realities implanted into her mind as some cruel joke?

Anything was possible.

Her doubts faded away along with all her other thoughts as the warp generator took over…

And Bristol, the reploid seeking answers to her life, vanished into the sky above.

She did not notice the red haired, green eyed reploid standing on another building rooftop five hundred feet away…watching her burst into the stratosphere with burning, intense eyes.

"So…the rabbit ventures on." Willow mused, drawing her cape around herself and turning away.

"And like Alice…I'm left wondering just where that wee critter's off to next." Willow's eyes burned. "But I'll find ye, lass. I've got a few things to clear up."

She clenched up a hand into a fist.

"Now I just have to figure out where you've gone." Perhaps…perhaps that Wycost fellow COULD come in handy again…


	9. Advanced Training

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER SEVEN: ADVANCED TRAINING

It was definitely a new way of doing things, Sigma mused. But then again, he'd tried so many different tactics. He'd gone all out on his own, taken his best men and split them apart to each handle a different sphere of influence. That was the First Uprising…

Then he'd tried his luck at letting his little orphan Annie Mavericks run things while he watched from the shadows of the nonphysical world, only appearing when he felt the time was prudent…he'd almost succeeded in turning Zero to their side that time. Had Zero not been the prime Maverick, and therefore impervious to Sigma's weak efforts of indoctrination. 

Then he'd waited so many years…years because he waited and let time take its course, infecting that fool Doctor Doppler and having him construct a vaccine that worked…until Sigma's stronger Maverick strain came into play…he'd worked slowly that time, and the end result was a Fortress that put all others to shame. But there, the failure lay in that both X and Zero lead the assault, and those two rogue elements succeeded once more in blowing his plans to shreds.

Lurking in the shadows once more…he'd then created a series of events that caused the Hunters to turn on the Repliforce. It had been fun seeing Zero destroy Iris…After all, Sigma loved to see things become destroyed…

He loved to see love destroyed.

But each time was a failure, and so had been his last two attempts as well.

His last one had been the most surprising, tactical-wise. Once again, he'd turned to an organization and made it his black sheep. Doppler, Repliforce, URFAWP…It was all the same to Sigma. What he had done in his last attempt only weeks before in late May of 2131 was a five pronged strike all across the globe, and he'd been certain that the Hunters would be stretched to their operational limits, especially with that fool Cristoph and his anti-Hunter legislation…

Anti-reploid in the long run, Sigma couldn't help but muse bitterly. Humans like Cristoph were the reason Sigma was Maverick. They were inferior creatures, the humans. And somewhere within the pit of his stomach, Sigma wagered that long ago the fight between him, X, and Zero had long ago passed all reason or motive.

Their fight was the undeniable struggle, the everlasting conflict that plagued them all. Neither side would rest until the other lay dead…And Sigma had enough firepower thanks to that patsy URFAWP conglomerate to play the deadliest game with the man in blue and the Crimson Hunter for a very long time to come…

And yet he still lost. Sigma was beginning to accept defeat, but he knew it also had its consequences on the winning side as well. For all their strength, they couldn't hold out forever. They'd been fighting this war since 2118, this war with Sigma…

Public opinion in the matter of reploid rights had gotten better since those early days, but public opinion in the matter of the continuous fighting that shattered their lives and refused them sanity had fallen sharply. It was a war the Hunters were facing on two fronts…

And Sigma, the master tactician could tell anyone by example of the Germans in both WWI and WWII that fighting a two front war was suicide.

Which brought him to where he was now. His latest attempt would involve the efforts of Maverick born URFAWP slaves…Six of them. Six Maverick Generals, with the strength, resolve, and ability to stand taller and more fearsome than any team before.

Sigma could be quiet at times, a brooding soul who had spent more than 12 years of eternity wandering in the void, his only true periods of awareness whenever he fought with X and Zero. His eyes would dim, he'd stare off into space…It had never bothered his Mavericks before.

Dolph Reach grimaced his sleek silvery snout and bared a row of short sharp teeth. A large dolphin-like mutation on a bipedal body with dash boots and long, gauntleted four finger hands, his power lay in his hands alone…As far as special abilities were concerned.

He brought his arms up and slammed them together in front of his face. Some distance in front of him, a pair of synchronized plasmic energy hands slammed together, crushing the projectile explosive that had been hurtling his way.

Burst Scarab buzzed on above, his back armor opened up to let his flight wings with their low basso thrum carry him through the air. The insect-like Maverick frowned in frustration and fired off another round from his desert bronzed torso. 

"I've figured out your weakness!" Dolph Reach cackled, slamming his hands up higher.

The plasmic energy hands under his control sprang up, destroying the next explosive mine in flight and proceeding to clasp around Burst Scarab's legs, who screamed in denial, and then finally landed in defeat.

Kazok Gravor stepped up to the two, his gray eyes calmly burning.

"Well, Burst Scarab? What can you analyze from that?" The red eyed insect Maverick bowed his head in shame.

"I'm too slow in the air…my attacks may be strong, but Dolph's energy hands destroy them before they get close enough to do damage…"

"Not to mention you leave yourself wide open." Dolph grumbled. "You need to pick up some aerial maneuverability real soon, or you'll be getting shot down worse than my lovetaps." Kazok nodded.

"Yes, but you also tend to remain planted in one spot when you use your energy hands, Dolph." Kazok let his gaze fall to each of them before shaking his head. "We all have weaknesses that the others can see and exploit. By informing each other of their shortcomings, we will learn to eliminate them…we will grow stronger, we will leave no openings for attack. We will become the most dangerous group of Mavericks that this pacified world has ever known." Burst's eyes danced at that. He lifted his head back up to Dolph.

"All right, you wanna try it again? Maybe using my air-dash thrusters in combination with the wings might increase my speed." The longsnouted Maverick gave another toothy grin.

"Gladly." Kazok waved his hand and walked away from the two, towards another section of the underground base…the elevator that led to the world above.

But he stopped as he passed by Sigma, his commander and leader both. Something felt slightly amiss, and he turned to address it.

"Lord Sigma?" He queried, turning about and clicking his heels, his long black cape billowing out behind him. 

Sigma finally turned his eyes up, boring them into Kazok.

"What is it, Number One?" Came the raspy voice. Kazok blinked unsteadily.

"Well sir, I was just on my way to check and see how the others were doing aboveground…"

"Cumulus Bull, Shell Butane, and Dash Blade, yes?" Sigma interrupted, ending it with a demand for Kazok's obvious query.

"Well sir, I just can't help but notice you seem a little…aloof." Kazok finally said, wondering how the devil it was possible for him to even discuss this with Sigma…after all, he was a Maverick General…Was small talk even allowed?

But Sigma's eyes didn't turn to stone that warned of a kick to the face. He merely shrugged his shoulders and looked past Kazok into the distance, his hands tapping on a group of schematics.

"Well, I've had my mind preoccupied…on just how successful we will be." Kazok's face went deadpan.

"Sir, under my training, the six of us shall be a force to become reckoned with. I estimate that in another three to five days, we'll be ready for a trial run mission." Sigma nodded, still aloof, and Kazok continued with his original point. "Is it even, possible, sir?"

"Is what possible?" Sigma growled.

"Well, sir, you're a Maverick, and yet you seem to almost be…" Kazok danced on the word, not knowing exactly what might work the best.

"Spit it out, Kazok." Sigma demanded.

"…Daydreaming, sir." Kazok finished with some difficulty. Sigma lowered his gaze, and the two Mavericks stared at each other for the longest time. Finally, Sigma snorted and shook his head.

"We're Mavericks, Kazok, not automatons. Mindless robots carry out their task without the slightest bit of sentience of rationale, they're ordered, they're programmed, they're mindless. Mavericks can think, and I prefer them to think…it keeps them alive in battle. Just because our prime directives tell us to Destroy, Infect, and Survive doesn't mean we think outside of those bounds. To a fault, those are still the objectives we accomplish, but we do not think in such narrow boundaries. That limits your options…limits your capabilities."

"I see." Kazok replied tonelessly. Sigma's frown grew deeper.

"Kazok, I designed you to be the leader of this team because you have the highest mental aptitude of this bunch. If you don't get some emotion in that damn voice of yours, I'll personally…"

"That WON'T be needed, sir." Kazok replied with a hint of annoyed gruffishness. Sigma's frown subsided, and he sighed.

"Better. Kazok, there's nothing wrong with me. Mavericks can dream just as well as humans and other reploids. Now that you know this, you're wiser for it…and that wisdom will aid you." Kazok nodded, then stared down at the plans Sigma's hand rapped on.

"So is that your dream?" Sigma blinked, then stared down at the design schematics. 

"What, this?" He snorted. "Hardly. My dream is a world with no humans, with only reploids living out their lives free of the human yoke of oppression, under my control as we march into a golden age." He looked down at the plans, then tucked them back into a folder. "These plans are just a little sidescript to my play."

"Who is she?" Kazok asked primly. Sigma harrumphed.

"The proper way to phrase that question would be, who 'was' she. She died two years ago…I'm just seeing where I might improve on the design."

"She looks aesthetically pleasing to me." Kazok offered. Sigma frowned.

'True, but her potential for devastation was rather low."

"So what of it?" Kazok asked. "Are you thinking of adding her into the mix?" Sigma shrugged.

"If I do…she won't be with you and the other five. You six are set, I cannot change that now." He slipped the folder into a file cabinet nearby. "If I bring her into this, it will be for a purpose far more tantalizing than mere explosions and chaos."

"What?" Kazok asked, obviously puzzled. Sigma's low chuckle was particularly menacing.

"Simple, my boy, simple…" Sigma rumbled. "…torture."

"Easy now, father…" Kalinka chided the elderly Cossack, tucking the covers tighter around his far too frail body. 

Sergei Cossack's body wretched in another powerful series of coughs as his wearied lungs tried to clear out the horrendous gunk clogging his respiratory system, and even as he stopped, his body still shuddered from the spasms. His breathing came painfully nowadays, even with the medicine he'd been given.

The medicine also left him dopey and unfocused, a mere shadow of the great man he once was. Kalinka couldn't help but grow misty eyed as his blank stare fell up towards the ceiling, not knowing anything or anyone…lost in his own state of drug laden exile in a world of pain and sickness and old age and friends long dead and a legacy he had no chance of carrying on.

He turned up and looked into her face, somewhere between pain and a state of unawareness.

"Kalinka…" He rasped, his voice almost questioning. "Kalin…ka…"

"Hold on, father." Kalinka whispered to him, giving him a gentle kiss on his wrinkled and grayed brow. "Just hold on…"

She walked out of the room and quietly shut the door behind her. 

She found Pharaoh Man standing outside, wearing a blank expression along with his face mask and green cape.

The green cape was a quirk he'd developed somewhere around 2094, approximately seven years after old Tokyo had been buried by Mount Fuji's eruption. And it was only now after the events of the past year plus, since Mega Man X arrived at their doorstep he had finally begun to show any sign of being more than just another robot.

"How's he doing?" Pharaoh asked in a quiet voice. Kalinka brushed back her own gray hair and shook her head sadly.

"Every day is a battle for him…he's just so old that fighting illness is impossible. And he suffers so much…"

"Doctor Cossack is a strong man." Pharaoh reemphasized hastily. "He won't give in without a fight."

"He HAS been fighting…" Kalinka sighed wearily. "But it's just too much. He's too old, Pharaoh Man. At more than ninety years of age, disease becomes a foe that most can't face." She looked at the robot with eyes of sorrow. "You can't understand things like this, the concept of disease…you're a robot. Yes, you grow old. But your lifespan is so much longer than ours…parts can be replaced, new bodies can be built. If you so chose, you could live for an eternity." Kalinka began to plod down the hallway, Pharaoh Man dutifully trotting beside her. "Humans wish we had it that easy."

"What good is a long life if one cannot enjoy it?" Pharaoh Man queried. "One of the things I can't forget about this new world is that although the reploid race has the mind of man and a lifespan to enjoy it, most still remain oppressed by humans. Reploids, and advanced robots like myself and the others here in the Citadel may have the age factor in their favor…but humans still remain the only sentient race on Earth treated fairly."

Neither spoke for a while as they walked on, but Kalinka finally spoke up and turned to Pharaoh Man.

"I cannot tell you why the rest of the world acts the way it does. I don't care about the rest of the world…" She shook her head, tears glistening in them. "I have never known what it feels like to hold a child in my arms, or to be at a wedding. I have secluded myself in this aging decrepit Fortress, and given my life to tend to my father in his final days." She turned away from Pharaoh, ashamed she was opening up like this.

"Oh, Hell…Why am I talking about this to you? You could never understand…"

Pharaoh Man stopped walking, and Kalinka went on, blowing her nose, all the despair of her father's faltering condition and her own wasted life drowning her away from the world as deeply as Sergei Cossack's drug induced slumber.

Pharaoh Man lowered his face mask, his firm jaw and mouth keeping themselves steady. But his eyes shone with understanding.

He understood what it was like to have a wasted life.

"Kalinka, you underestimate us robots." He shook his head and marched in the other direction, making a beeline for the elevator to take him to the Fourth Ring. "You underestimate me."

"Sigma's out there somewhere." X muttered.

Zero had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he looked over at X.

"Yeah, and your point is?" The two famous Maverick Hunters stood atop the MHHQ, the worldwide symbol of the hope for peace. X stared out beyond the lavender sky of nightfall, already feeling the temperature begin to drop as the sun fell into the horizon, leaving the cityscape of New Tokyo to be set ablaze by its dazzling lights of the night. X had come up here for air…and Zero, as his closest friend and ally, followed behind a few minutes later.

Zero's long blond hair whipped gently in the light breeze, the ends furling out with a mind of their own while the body was kept in place by the blue hairband tied close to where his helmet left his mane exit. His eyes were narrowed, not looking for answers in X's face, yet knowing why his friend was troubled. X and Zero had a connection that had developed over the years to a level far beyond words. Friends in the deepest sense, they had become able to predict the other's movements, to correlate in battle unlike anything any of the other Hunters had come close to building. They knew each other's moods, and they knew each other's minds. Thus, X knew that Zero would respond like he did.

"My point is that this cycle gets awfully tiring." X muttered, taking off his helmet and setting it down on the rooftop ledge beside where his arm lay. He leaned farther out over the balcony and stared towards the mountains, where the sun already was dancing playfully behind. "I mean, how long have we been doing this?"

"Thirteen years now." Zero said calmly. "June 2118 to June 2131."

"And through that, we've faced…what? Five classified Maverick Uprisings and a five pronged attack known as 'Sigma's Sixth?' Not to mention all the incidents that happened between them all…"

"I assume you're talking about stuff like that world trial with Cristoph." Zero grumbled.

X gave a slow nod of his head.

"Yeah…That's a big one all right." Zero sighed, then walked over to the balcony and leaned beside X.

"X, my buddy, I think you came through that crisis just fine."

"Did I have a choice?" X muttered in disgust. "The GDC gets a bee in its bonnet with Emilius Cristoph in the lead about how reploids are dangerous to the world, and puts all reploids on trial for the validity of our race's EXISTENCE?!"

"August to September 2124." Zero stated. "The pinnacle of tensions between reploid/human relations."

Neither one spoke for a while after that.

That had indeed been a dark hour for them all…For all reploids, and for X and Zero, mere prototypes to their breed, yet alike all the same. X had defended their right to life with fervor, with succinct mastery of the spoken language, with appeals to humanity's sense of morality and the sacredness of intelligent life…and on the opposing side of the argument had been Emilius Cristoph, loved grandfather figure and the GDC representative of the AmeriCanadian alliance.

And for all of X's pleas and arguments, they would have been scattered to the wind…

Were it not for the stunning announcement by the reploid scientist Doppler of an uncanny nature and timing.

The trial was ended after Doppler announced the Viral basis of Maverickism…

The Maverick Virus.

And yet three years later in 2127, it began again.

Like a ghost that would not die, like a legend that never stopped living in memory, that hated baldheaded monster returned again…

After the Third Uprising of 2127, and the fall of Doppler, certainty had been thrown to the wind.

At one time, people thought that Mavericks were wild reploids, that all reploids could go Maverick.

Then they thought that it was caused by a Maverick Virus, and that thanks to Doppler, that virus had been contained.

They thought peace could live.

But Sigma always found a way back.

And Mavericks, Viral and self-chosen alike still marched onwards.

And humanity, although not as openly, still condemned the race of its metal children.

Zero had to admit at times, it seemed hopeless. But he would never let it get him down. 

And he wouldn't let X fall into despair either.

"It's simple enough." Zero said to X, as they watched the sun set. "When Sigma shows his face, we fight him. And we win."

"And more people die…" X said wearily. He spoke again a few seconds later. "Look at us, Zero." He turned his head about and stared at his friend. "We've been here forever. And after Cain's passed away, we'll still be here. Everything changes but us…us and Sigma."

"What are you getting at?" Zero mumbled with an upraised eyebrow. X turned back to face the fading sun.

"It's like the sun right now, Zero. It's that obvious." His raven black hair danced about in the slow breeze, tickling at his eyes. Yet X did not blink.

"The sun sets on today…and time sets on an era." 

"You getting dramatic on me again??"

"Yes…I can't help it, Zero. The Hunters here right now will come and go…and I'm left thinking that the only constants in this war are the three of us."

"You, me…"

"And Sigma."

The Man In Blue, the Crimson Hunter, and the undying Maverick.

And Zero couldn't argue with that.

The hatch behind them opened up, and X and Zero turned about to see Bastion clambering up the ladder, a shimmering silver pack tucked underneath his saber rechargers and firmly melded with his armor.

"Aah, so this is where you two ran off to." Bastion announced with a slight smile. Zero offered his fellow Commander a halfhearted wave. X only gave the Desert Angel a sidewards glance.

"We're just standing up here and enjoying the view." Zero offered. Bastion walked towards them, a sardonic grin on his face.

"Shooting the breeze, eh? Where's the beer?" 

"Not with me." Zero replied. His eyes narrowed down a bit, in a way that wasn't menacing, but focused. "When you've been around as long as us, you learn to enjoy the little things in life…like sunsets and sun rises."

"And the tide rises…and the tide falls." Bastion mouthed, quoting an old poem. He shook his wild two layers of brown hair out and stretched his arms.

"Me…I'm gonna give my Flight Wings some real air time for a while." Zero gave a slight nod of his head.

"Sure, you fly. I'll stay on the ground, thank you very much."

"Oh, flight has its advantages…if you think out of the box." Bastion mused drily. His pack popped out the silvery wings with the jagged lightning bolt design down the axes, and they stretched out to their fullest position.

The interior of his highly modified helmet stretched out two angled pieces of durable rose tinted crystal that wrapped around his eyes, sliding together and connecting on an atomic level.

Instantly, they became the goggles that they were designed to be, flashing data before Bastion's eyes as his Flight Systems warmed up for takeoff. 

He gave a final salute to X and Zero, then shot up into the sky, an orange and red blur across the dark pink and lavender coated skies. 

The two Maverick Hunters watched their comrade as he soared towards the skies above New Tokyo, until he finally went out of range.

X sighed and put his helmet back on, then turned to Zero.

"I'm gonna go in and bug Hazil. You coming along?"

The Crimson Hunter gave a nonchalant shrug.

"I got nothing better to do."

Indeed, the Maverick Hunters had nothing else to do besides wait.

Wait for the coming sunrise.

"All right then, here's your next lesson, my boy." Julius Kinnian Horn said with a large dose of good humor in his voice. The eager, yet slightly aloof student under his tutilage, the ex-URFAWP reploid known as Allegro perked his head up, aware that seeing as Horn hadn't spoken up in the last two hours, this one had to be important. "Actually, it's more of a pop quiz."

"Oh, geez." Allegro muttered, setting his soldering equipment down from the latest tinkering project Horn was having him construct. All in all, Horn had found a steady pace of objectives for Allegro to follow, gently coaxing the more warrior prone reploid to sharpen his engineering wit and work wonders with metal. Allegro lifted the clear safety goggles from his eyes and looked up with a hint of aggravation. "Pop quizzes?!"

"Oh, they're refreshing, at least." Horn said, his eyes twinkling behind the blue blockers he always kept near him. "And besides, it's not like you can flunk out of anything. My question is this: What metal is currently the most widely recognized alloy for plasma deflective capability?"

"TitaniTefloAlloy." Allegro retorted, relieved a bit that he'd actually been able to answer it. "But it has its downsides as well." Horn's face began to seep into a more pronounced grin as he nodded for Allegro to continue.

"Mind telling me what the downside is?"

"The cost of producing TitaniTefloAlloy is high…very high. Thus, it's mostly just the military that produces the stuff…them and the Mavericks."

"Correct. Now, we know what the military uses the stuff for, but can you give me some examples of TitaniTefloAlloy use by Mavericks?"

"Uhh…" Allegro stuttered, suddenly finding himself running into a roadblock. Horn waited a few moments before pointedly tapping a finger on his forehead. "That's not helping me any, doc." Allegro muttered in slight disdain. Horn lifted his sunglasses up into his shaggy gray hair and sighed in frustration.

"Well, two out of three isn't bad. Still, I would have thought you would have identified Nitro Narwhal as being practically made out of the stuff, aside from his main explosive launcher on top of his forehead, seeing as he was the Maverick General running the show at Cairo during your mission with Wycost and Doan there."

"Wycost took on Narwhal." Allegro mumbled sadly. "Doan, Andante and me went onto Cairo and shut down the main Maverick forces…and Andante didn't make it." Horn silently cursed himself for dredging up the sour memory, then walked over and patted his student on the back.

"Aah, I know. But realize, Andante's proud of you. You're finally doing something worthwhile to help out. More so than you could have at URFAWP." Horn shook his head sadly. "More than any of us could." He turned about and continued the lecture.

"According to the MHHQ's computer records I've been able to access, there was also another Maverick during the Fifth Uprising who somehow survived extermination up until Sigma's Sixth…he went by the name of Fluid Ferret. Ferret was a real close combat knife fighter…had a pair of claws composed entirely of TitaniTefloAlloy that made him difficult for X to deal with."

"Anyone would have problems if their main weapon's shots could be blocked by a haphazard swipe from a crazed Maverick." Allegro responded. "But Nitro Narwhal was an interesting case…constructing him must have taken a lot of resources from the Mavericks. And considering his obvious Achilles Heel, I doubt we'll ever see a Maverick like him again. TitaniTefloAlloy has its uses, but overall, it's too damn expensive to build an entire reploid's body out of the stuff."

"Right you are." Horn said, his face brightening again. "See, I knew my lessons were beginning to pay off!!" Allegro gave him a blank stare, and Horn continued. "Lemme explain: You're beginning to think from a tactical point of view, to think beyond the cloak and dagger and more like a field commander. You gotta realize that to make it as an engineer, you have to be able to think like that sometimes. That ability to forsee what something is capable of, to ponder what your enemy can use it for and what you yourself can do with it can take your designs and projects to a new level of practicality and effectiveness."

"Lemme sum up your bureau-speak." Allegro grumbled. "I'm thinking smarter, and thinking smarter is a good thing for us and the guys who are gonna use our stuff."

"Short, sweet, and one hundred percent Allegro." Horn replied, his aged face twinkling with satisfaction. He turned about and stared at his own project, a roughly replicated model of the flight systems requested by Doan's associate, Cleo.

"Aah, I need a break. Whaddo you feel like for lunch?" Allegro climbed up to his feet and grinned.

"Roasted Maverick, but seeing as there's none of that on hand, I suppose some Calamari'll fit the bill."

"Deep batter fried?"

"We're reploids, doc! Calories don't matter!!" Allegro chortled with a heavy amount of the same good humor his boss displayed. Horn led the way, chuckling all the while.

Allegro followed, shaking his head in amazement. 

He'd been with J.K. Horn for a while now, and working with the man as an equal instead of merely working FOR HIM as an URFAWP recruit gave the philanthropist a new level of depth Allegro couldn't have recognized otherwise. But Allegro knew one thing about the reploid with the long and somewhat shady history;

He never passed up an excuse to laugh.

Willow blinked her eyes unsteadily as she tried to wake up, her mind racing about…

She steadied her trembling body with a demanding conscious override, then shut her green eyes for a moment as she took in several deep breaths.

"Just a bad dream." She whispered, finally opening her eyes and climbing to her feet.

She was in one of New York's homeless shelters, and she had been dozing off on a haphazardly set cot, a scratchy blanket her only solace against the chill night air.

At least it was summer. She checked her internal chronometer, wincing at the results.

She'd only been in light stasis for three hours. And there was no way she could drop back into it now.

Like they always did, the nightmares scared her awake, made it impossible for her to find any level of comfort.

Of course, the sobering thought came when Willow always acknowledged, much to her own terror, that the nightmares weren't dreams…they were the memories she was cursed to carry.

The room of the homeless shelter she was in was dimly lit, and it took Willow a moment to adjust her optics to the narrow frequency of light. Others slept around the crowded room as well.

Humans and reploids alike…poor, abandoned, homeless, unnoticed by most of the world. Here lay shattered dreams, living nightmares, hopeless lives. 

She shook her head for a moment, then quietly made her way towards the exit.

Willow had to pass through a dimly lit checkpoint room, where a good natured reploid that somewhat resembled a snake looked up from the tiny television set at his desk. 

"Leaving so soon? It's not yet daylight."

"I couldn't sleep." Willow offered tonelessly. "I might as well be on my way." The snake type reploid gave Willow a once-over and shook his head.

"All sorts of unsavory types walk the streets at night, little lady. You make an inviting target." And truthfully, Willow didn't look all that menacing from an outside glance. A somewhat muscular female with green eyes and red hair, standing at 5'9 with a look of aloofness about her.

Willow's eyes suddenly flickered with the opening hints of contempt and rage, and she reached underneath the cloak draped about her supple body.

"I think I can take care of myself." She replied tersely, letting the glint of a silvery handled device glint in the dim light.

The reploid at the desk couldn't help but let his eyes widen a little in surprise.

The device looked all too similar to a beam saber's hilt.

"I see." He finally stammered, his shock showing in his voice. Willow slipped the device back underneath her outer garment and blinked, pointedly staring right into the homeless shelter worker's eyes.

"Thanks for the rest." The snakelike reploid gave the barest nod of his head.

"No…no problem." Willow turned about and walked out, in no mood for small talk.

As she stepped outside onto the streets of New York, she couldn't help but stare up towards the sky. It was the barest hint of nightshade black, faded and altered by all the lights that made the Big Apple 'the city that never sleeps'. The adage had carried on all these years since it had been born in the early years of the 20th Century.

Countless millions had come and gone since then, Willow couldn't help but remark to herself.

"And me and you, Bristol, are just two more fish in the stream." Willow muttered darkly. Her Scottish accent had left her for the briefest span of time, but it was enough.

She drew the cloak in around herself tighter still and began to walk down the streets of New York…

Just another fish.

"If I wasn't so damn screwed up already, this whole thing about reploids being capable of having ghosts would scare the living shit outta me." Wycost grumbled as he stared across the dining table to Isaiah.

It was another dream of Wycost's, the Bronx Bomber knew that much. This was the second time now Isaiah had returned to speak to him…the first time the ghost of his friend in URFAWP had pledged whatever help he could to Wycost as he pursued his penance.

"Aah, I know it's weird." Isaiah grinned, taking a bite out of a chicken leg and nodding in approval. "And geez, you can dream up some good country style cooking, you know that?" Wycost sipped at his own grape soda and shrugged.

"So what is it this time?" Isaiah set the chicken bone down and looked at his friend with a slightly bemused stare.

"What do you think it's about?"

"DAMNIT, ISAIAH…" Wycost began, his aggravation beginning to sink in. The ghost of the former URFAWP reploid waggled a finger back and forth.

"Hey, where's that new you?"

"The new me doesn't want to kill. It doesn't have any qualms about cursing up a storm." Wycost growled. "Remember, I'm a New Yorker." He pronounced it so that it sounded like 'Yoarkawr', the lilt unmistakable. "It's demanded that a little foul language lie close by for use." 

"Well, that's one opinion anyhow." Isaiah sighed. "But I guess I'll get to the point. Things are probably gonna get real interesting soon. I just thought I'd give you a heads up."

"What kind of interesting? Mind getting a little specific for me, Isaiah?"

"Well, Sigma for one." Isaiah replied calmly. "But I guess his involvement is sort of a given." Wycost's eyes darkened.

"Figures. Am I going to run into his bunch again?"

"No, your friends will handle Sigma." Isaiah said edgily. He stared into Wycost's eyes. "You'll have your own battles, my friend."

"Just what I didn't need to hear." Wycost said wearily. He looked to Isaiah, his eyes pleading. "I'm on a mission to PRESERVE life. Are you telling me I'll be put in a situation where I'll need to draw blood again?" 

Isaiah looked up to the endless sky above of Wycosts' dream, silently looking for an answer. Finally, he tilted his head down and faced Wycost.

"One of the hardest lessons X had to learn was that his blind pacifism would only get more innocents killed, Wycost. What Mega Man X had to learn was that there comes a time when you will need to draw blood, in order to preserve the lives of so many more."

"Still, Mavericks are sentient beings as well." Wycost argued. "The infected ones have those damn three priorities always pulsing in their skulls, but they THINK, by God."

"We're not talking about Mavericks anymore." Isaiah uttered darkly. His response left Wycost more than a little stunned. 

The ghost of Isaiah sighed and got out of the dining table chair, wiping his hands onto his pants before staring up towards the sky above.

"I'll give you one question to brood on until next time, Wycost…" Isaiah stated. "What is worse than a Maverick?"

Wycost opened his mouth to speak…

Too late. Isaiah was gone.

Wycost's eyes snapped awake, and he jerked up to a sitting position.

The room's lights flickered on, prompting the Bronx Bomber to lower his sunglare goggles into place to dampen the lights.

"Wycost man, you all right?" Wycost turned and stared towards a reploid standing in the doorframe.

His breathing settled back down, and Wycost slowly got his focus back.

He was in the New York City special reploid SWAT unit's barracks…

The reploid looking towards him had been a 'newbie' back in 2130 when the Fifth Uprising occurred. He hadn't been in Wycost's unit…which meant he'd survived the horrific attack of Nitro Narwhal and his Maverick forces. Still, he, like the other newbies and surviving veterans remembered Wycost. 

They'd been surprised he was still around, but after he informed them of his service in the Maverick Hunters to avenge his fallen comrades, they'd stopped asking questions. It was a touchy subject, and they were glad that an old friend had returned…even if he wasn't staying.

"Wycost, you all right?" The newbie, a reploid by the name of Garrison asked again. Wycost blinked his eyes a few times behind his glasses and finally nodded an affirmative.

"Yeah…I'm all right." Wycost muttered, getting back up to his feet and activating his Warp Generator.

The light ensemble of the gray T-Shirt and Sweat Shorts vanished, Wycost once more standing in his blue jeans and leather jacket.

"Just a really weird dream I can't get back to sleep from." Wycost finished. 

Garrison clucked his tongue.

"Well, as long as you're up, you might as well grab some coffee and join the party down at the War Room."

"Sounds good." Wycost answered perfunctorily. "I could do some much needed research while I'm at it…I've been out of the loop for a while."

"That you have." Garrison acknowledged with a smirk. He turned about to head back to his post.

"Hey, Garrison!" Wycost said suddenly, causing the rookie to turn about with a slightly befuddled stare.

"Yeah?"

"I just had a thought…"

"Yeah?"

"What's worse than a Maverick?" Wycost asked, lifting his sunglasses back up and resting them on his head of short black hair. Garrison blinked a few times, then shrugged and turned back to walk away.

"Well, that requires a new definition in place of the word." Garrison replied, his voice increasing in volume as his distance increased. "The more proper question you might ask is, what's worse than an individual who's forced to kill and destroy?"

Wycost remained planted in the doorway of the barrack as his mind mulled over Garrison's return question.

What indeed was worse than a programmed killer?

Wycost found that the answer, even for all of his gruff exterior, still frightened him.

"Someone who kills for pleasure or a coldhearted motive."

Wycost shuddered involuntarily and followed after Garrison.

He definitely wasn't getting back to sleep tonight.


	10. For Allah And Country

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER EIGHT: FOR ALLAH AND COUNTRY

They were warriors without names…

Deprived of even that level of recognition, they were merely assigned serial numbers. If that did anything, it caused them to work more as a team, to completely ignore their individuality.

But it did have a degrading effect on their intelligence as well, AN-78 thought bitterly. The commanders of the Jihad strike units were somewhat narrow-minded about that. 

AN-78 and his fellow comrades in arms were reploids…yet they were being handled as little more than robots.

Move here, attack this, report back to base, drop into stasis…endless commands, devoid of all emotion aside from perhaps a slight twinge here and there of disgust. They were merely the arms, left out of the main loop.

But it was the only life that they knew. What else they knew was that their superiors were rather radical followers of Islam, in opposition to the Jewish people in Israel. The battle had begun hundreds of years ago, and yet it still continued.

AN-78 pondered at times just why the humans were so fickle about the petty differences of religion when the world needed them to do so much more useful things.

But he never wondered aloud, none of them did. To do that would be to invite punishment…Questioning authority, questioning the reason for their purpose in life brought a swift end to life.

AN-78's dull eyes stared around the hangar of their specific base, looking at all the equipment they had. Low level hovercraft, new generation Landchasers and their subsidiaries…there were even transports capable of carrying 'Mechs, should the mission require it.

He was a member of the Islamic Jihad, a violent and vicious group at war with the Israelis. He did not choose to be so, he did not share the views that kept the conflict going.

It was the life he had been given. 

"AN-78!!" Came the sharp outburst. The reploid's eyes narrowed down at the report, and he calmly stood up from where he sat, lowering his hands down to his side and making his eyes stare straight ahead.

That did little good…he could still make out the disgusting features of his commander, Lieutenant Oman Herrzan through his peripheral vision as the overweight and ripe human trotted…more like waddled, towards him.

"AN-78, what are you doing here??" The reploid's throat went dry, an answer failing to come to his rescue. They were strict here, and his superiors just might well ignore any acts of violence Herrzan gave him…

"He's with me sir." Came a calm voice. AN-78 relaxed a little as a fellow comrade of his came up to Herrzan and himself.

"Oh, is he now AN-23?" Herrzan growled menacingly. AN-23, a reploid with stone brown armor and bluish highlights came closer, easily dwarfing the portly human in size. But his calm gray eyes didn't waver in the slightest as he stared directly at Herrzan.

"Yes sir. AN-78 is down here to help me take out the Landchasers for a test drive. They've recently undergone an engine upgrade, and we need to ascertain what adjustments still need to be made."

The human gave the both of them an icy stare as if he didn't believe them, but he finally sighed in disgust and walked off.

AN-78 rubbed his own desert orange and fire red armor with a gloved hand, sighing in relief.

"Thanks for the save, Tertrus." AN-23, or as he was known only to the other reploids in this messed up assembly, Tertrus gave a brief shake of his head.

"Just watch yourself, AN-78." He said quietly, but sharply. "If any humans listen in on us talking like that, we're gonna be in serious trouble." He jerked a thumb towards two Landchaser cycles sitting in a stationary holding position. "Now come on. If we don't take these things for a spin like I said we were, Herrzan's gonna have both our hides."

The two reploids quickly hopped onto the Landchasers, then shot out of the low lying hangar and into the blazing sun of the midday…

Free as the wind in the desert they served as.

They were known as the Desert Wind, officially. That was the only name their superiors in this conflict had given them.

Tertrus finally keyed up his bike comm and sent a transmission to AN-78.

"Bastion, you gotta keep on your toes more. Inaction will cost you, especially here. They expect blind obedience and limited intelligence. You gotta give them that."

"I know, I know…" AN-78, or Bastion muttered, keying in his own cycle comm and readjusting his helmet. "But this job really bites."

"I know it does." Tertrus grumbled. "But what else can we do?"

"We could escape." Bastion offered hopefully.

The airwaves were silent for a very long moment after that.

Bastion was called Bastion for a very specific reason among the warriors of the Desert Wind.

In battle, he dropped into a state of mind that made him deadly to the extreme. While inexperienced, he nonetheless had reflexes and intuition that made him as deadly as a whole team of warriors…a bastion of warriors, as it were.

That was why he had his name. Tertrus had a weakness for the longstanding puzzle game Tetris...the name was self-explanatory.

Bastion wondered if that last statement was overstepping the bounds.

"Not today, hotshot." Tertrus finally called back. "Not today."

Tertrus revved up his Landchaser and shot ahead of Bastion as he popped it into a wheelie.

Bastion's eyes were aloof again…

But they were sharp now, out here when he could actually display signs that he was better than the drones the Islamic commanders wished they could be.

"But some day, Tertrus…" Bastion vowed quietly.

The wind whipped by his face, kicking grains of sand into his cheeks, yet not making the warrior wince. He'd long since become inured to the ways of the desert.

"Some day…"

Bastion had to blink his eyes for a few moments before that vision went away.

And then he finally remembered where he was.

Not somewhere in the Middle East, hidden in an underground bunker with the sandstorms howling overhead.

Not AN-78. Not a member of the Desert Wind. Not even the Desert Fire, the name that he found out later he had been given by the Israeli forces he was always ordered to hunt down.

He was in his room at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters in New Tokyo, lying back on his bunk.

He was Bastion, Commander of the 21st Maverick Hunter Unit. He didn't fight now because two opposing religious groups of humans had long since given up on peace talks and had regressed to all out war. He fought because of a group of reploids whose ambitions were to destroy the world as it was known, to eliminate all of humanity and to create a world under the iron hand of Sigma

And as Bristol, the now missing love of his life had told him…

He was now the Desert Angel.

"Lights." He muttered. Instantly, his room lights kicked on, though slowly so that he wouldn't be blinking insanely at the brightness. He got up from his cot and walked over to his window, pushing aside the white curtains and staring out into the night.

New Tokyo was always brightly lit at night, and the MHHQ was only about three quarters of a mile distant from it on one of the main highways. 

Countless Hunters had most likely found themselves in this situation, staring out of their room's window and towards the spectacle of wonder. 

Or they could stare at the stars instead. Bastion had the glorious ability with his Flight Armor to go high into the air, beyond the glare of Tokyo's lights so that he could see the stars at their full strength, hindered only by the atmosphere that made them twinkle.

His Flight Armor…

Bastion turned away from the window and plodded over to his desk, collapsing into the chair and looking at a framed picture of Bristol he kept laying beside the desk lamp.

The picture had been taken during the whirlwind of activity that had begun with Bristol's discovery in the New Denver warzone and ended with her departure just after 'Sigma's Sixth.'

And during that time, Bastion had fallen in love with her…and she'd fallen in love with him.

His Flight Armor, a design she had called the "Angel's Advantage" had become almost her parting gift. Primarily her idea, she had turned to the aid of Hazil, and more surprisingly, J.K. Horn, the enigmatic founder of the now disbanded URFAWP to actually make the design work.

He'd been crushed at first during those opening weeks…unable to even perform in battle as well as he should have. It took a visit from Doan, and a long talk to straighten him out.

The hurt was still there…to be separated from the one you loved more than anyone else was always painful. But Wycost was following her…Bristol would be safe, and she would return.

When she was ready…when she finally had her head screwed on straight about who she was and where she was going.

So Bastion moved on. Bristol never left his mind, but it didn't weigh as heavily now as it did. He would live, and she would live.

And when time and fate were ready, they would be together. Bastion grunted with that reassurance and picked himself up, walking out of his room and into the circular corridors that were the MHHQ's passageways.

Julius Kinnian Horn…that was his true name. A weird sort, he'd gone beyond just one name. He actually gave himself a full name…first, middle, last, like humans did.

He'd worked for the opposing side of that conflict Bastion had been born into before he joined with the Hunters.

Bastion still had some bad blood towards Horn, as most likely the scientist did towards him. But they'd left on familiar terms.

The real enemy now was Sigma…not each other. Their own differences, as grievous as they were, would have to wait.

And perhaps, Bastion had thought countless times before, Horn hoped that time could cause their wounds to heal so that they wouldn't be foes.

Stranger things had happened in his lifetime, Bastion realized. And stranger things still would.

"Who wants ice cream?" Bastion said aloud. He let his mouth quirk up into a smile as he made his way towards the cafeteria.

"I do, of course."

"X, I'll be frank with you."

"You're never anything but, doc." X grumbled to Hazil. The gray haired medical reploid frowned for a moment before continuing, walking over next to X and handing him a datapadd. 

"I assume you're aware of why your armor sets are degrading?"

"My dad didn't want me to continually have the capacity to be an agent of destruction." Mega Man X restated. "They all have a set amount of time to them according to how powerful they are…And all of them are beginning to degrade." 

"Brilliant. Daddy wanted his boy to not be off to war 24/7." Hazil grumbled. "If I ever got myself to a time machine, I'd go back and tell him to reverse that decision. Because obviously, you can't help the fact you're still stuck in this mess. And frankly, those armor sets give you an edge that's all too crucial."

X's eyes dimmed a bit. He wasn't looking forward to the concept of going into something armorless. Zero could get away with it, he was half of a melee warrior already, but X…

X was a much different matter. He didn't have a constant edge. The moments where he shone were the moments he absolutely needed to, the life and death moments that accompanied dangerous times.

"Well, what can we do about it?" X asked his doctor calmly. "Is there any way to stop the degradation, or slow it down at least?" Hazil clucked his tongue with a little dismay.

"Stop it, no. Slow it, that really depends on how good of a genius you have on this project. As it is, X, I can state the following; your first three armor sets are so close to gone that slowing their rate down is a useless effort." Hazil tapped on his own datapadd, sighing in dismay. "The fourth set is the only one in any shape to be partially preserved."

"So what are you going to do?" X queried, realizing he was beginning to ask a lot of questions very quickly. 

Hazil blinked his eyes a few more times, then shrugged.

"You remember that Horn character?" X's eyes went dark.

"I don't think any of us can forget that name." Truth be told, the name J.K. Horn was almost scorned nowadays, for creating an organization of reploids whose goal was a good one, but was far too inviting for Maverick intervention.

Of course, those same critics in the world were the ones who had believed much like the rest of them that Sigma had finally bought it after the Fifth Uprising. And Sigma didn't give a damn about the GDC or the Hunters or URFAWP or anyone else in the world…The only people he concerned himself with was X and Zero.

And he just kept coming. And coming.

And that made X's armor situation all the more dire.

"I'm gonna give Horn a call…see if he has any ideas." Hazil said quickly.

"Well, call me if anything new pops up." X said quietly. He walked out of the Medical Bay and walked through the halls towards the one place that would still be at maximum functionality this time of night.

As he pushed through into the cafeteria, he found he wasn't alone.

"Morning, Bastion." X waved towards his associate.

The Desert Angel stopped his spoonful of ice cream on its trip to his mouth, then let his eyes glaze over as he checked his internal chronometer.

Blinking back to reality, he grinned at X.

"Yeah…I guess it is." X walked over to Bastion's table and plopped down, sitting motionless for a few moments before reaching for the electronic menu on the table and punching in his own selection. "While I'm here…" X mumbled.

The command was sent to the cafeteria's food replicators along with the rank of the Hunter who had ordered it, and thus was instantly obeyed.

A few seconds later, a robotic 'floater tray' as it was known carried X's order out.

Bastion gave it a quizzical stare for a while.

"Hot fudge sundae with dinosaur shaped sprinkles??" X offered only the smallest of smiles.

"Why mess with a classic?" He dug into his mess of dessert, and for a while, that was the end of their conversation. 

Finally, the both of them pushed their now empty bowls away from them to the middle of the table and sighed in contentment.

"There's times I'm glad I'm a reploid." Bastion said blithely, rubbing his belly. "This is definitely one of them. I don't gain weight, and it still tastes good."

"Yeah, I suppose." X replied, staring up at the ceiling. Bastion decided to change the subject.

"So what's the news with Hazil and your armor sets?"

"Not good…it's out of his league. He's calling in J.K. Horn."

"HORN!?" Bastion exclaimed. X lowered his gaze towards Bastion and nodded slowly. 

"Yes, J.K. Horn, the same Horn who worked for the opposite side of that stupid conflict you had yourself embedded in before you joined the Hunters." X rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you gotta learn to put that behind you. He's a rather brilliant engineer, and if anyone can offer even a shred of hope towards the betterment of my situation, I'm not one to refuse it. Neither of you came out of that conflict smelling like a rose, Bastion." X shook his head. "None of us are innocent here." 

He jerked a thumb towards himself and shrugged sadly.

"Not even me." Bastion waved a gloved hand.

"Aah, innocent is such a useless term anymore. You're either working for positive or negative goals. That's the only distinction we have." He shrugged and picked himself up.

"I'm gonna go get some late night training in one of the holographic sims. See you later, boss." 

Bastion walked off, as screwy an oddball as any in the MHHQ. X blinked his eyes a few times before harrumphing.

"Well, I don't have anywhere to go." 

And he felt a slight pang of sadness run through him as he realized it applied not only to location, but his lot in life.

Bristol was beginning to become far more than aggravated.

To use a blunt term, she was pissed.

Calming herself down so she wouldn't slice a building or something else to ribbons with her beam saber and become labeled a Maverick, she walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, readjusting her long blue overcoat.

For mere reasons of anonymity, she was dressed in normal street clothes. The most unordinary feature left she couldn't remove was the size of her boots, capable of dual air dash. Luckily, a holographic emitter transformed them into more humanlike dimensions, so as long as she was careful what she kicked, no one was the wiser.

The sky above was already full of sunlight, not a cloud anywhere and the humidity beginning to become humanly uncomfortable.

Even for Bristol, it was beginning to get a little aggravating, so the British speaking reploid calmly pulled her overcoat off and folded it over her arm.

She leaned back against the high durability plastic of the bench and sighed in exhaustion, leaning up and staring into the bright blue sky above.

New York had changed a lot over the years, much like its population, much like the world.

Change was the only constant that the inhabitants of Earth were assured of. And somewhere, Bristol's life had changed.

She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the locket with the picture of Bastion in it. She popped it open, smiling at the inside of it. 

The feeling of missing him hadn't gone away any…but the pain had dulled itself. 

"I'll come back, Bastion." Bristol said quietly. "I'll come back for you."

Just as soon as she had a grip on who the devil she was. 

But her quest as it were, had dried up.

Cristoph's E-Mails had brought her here to New York, where the servers they'd been sent through…not once or twice, but ALWAYS…were located. And the servers weren't public either. They were hidden, confidential, and totally undiscoverable. 

It all didn't add up. Bristol's efforts were grinding to a halt…a very agonizing halt when she considered that the answers she was looking for were dancing on the edge of her mind, but refused to reveal themselves.

Suddenly, a blur of a figure shot past, a hand blurring outwards and clutching onto her locket, pulling it from her surprised and unprepared loose grasp.

Bristol's attention snapped back to reality, her eyes now burning into the confident and cocky street thief, blazing down the street on miniature rocket powered skates.

"COME BACK HERE!!" Bristol howled angrily, snapping up from the bench and running after the fool at full tilt.

The confident human turned about for a brief moment, then twisted his head back to stare ahead of him as he shot onwards.

Bristol's blood was boiling now as that cocky and foolish human teenage boy, probably just some small time thief, charged onwards. Everyone they passed by stared…but no one offered a hand.

_So this is what the world is like outside of the Hunter's narrow existence…The world has degraded so much that no one gives a damn about anyone else's problems aside from their own. _

Bristol realized through her bitter rage, that that locket would only be returned to her if she made the effort.

And fortunately enough, she felt like making it. For something this important, she'd be damned if she didn't.

In one swift and fluid motion, she unfurled her blue overcoat and jammed her arms through the sleeves, putting it back on once more and saving her the trouble of carrying extra baggage in one arm. She was used to making daring maneuvers wearing this coat…

More people were staring now at the thief and the pursuer as they tore their way through the streets, the thief with his rocket skates gradually pulling away.

"Not today, you urchin." Bristol growled lowly. "You aren't pulling a grab today."

The holographic field around her dash boots quivered and distorted as they began to snort powerful flames of synthesized fuel, a combination of hydrogen and oxygen that was easily replaced by dash thruster technology.

Now more people were gawking at the thief's pursuer…

Bristol arced up into the air in an overwhelmingly powerful dash jump, her blue overcoat ruffling behind her almost like a cape, providing drag, but overall, nothing too severe. Her eyes burned into the thief, and she slowly watched the distance between them begin to close.

Her upwards momentum began to drop off, and Bristol triggered her second burst of thrusters, the coat now ruffling behind her as she shot overhead of the thief like a female superman.

She dropped back to the concrete sidewalk below, turning about and standing tall and tense as the thief approached.

His eyes boggled in disbelief for a long moment before he realized that his victim had not only somehow managed to catch up with him, but he was now far too late to stop a collision.

But it never came…The thief never did slam into Bristol, because she stepped aside at the last moment with humanly impossible speed, sticking her right arm straight out at a height of the base of his neck.

The human crashed flat on his back, stunned and clotheslined by a smooth maneuver he could have never predicted of a victim.

Before the dark spots rolling in his eyes had blurred away, he found himself being hoisted up by the scruff of his shirt by the seemingly weak and harmless female with the blond hair and its pink highlights.

"Give it back." She hissed, her rage seething beneath the beautiful, but now also taut and deadly exterior.

Dazedly, the thief did the only thing he was capable of that involved her locket…

He weakly tried to lift his arm up, to drop it into the outstretched hand.

His muscles gave out a few inches beyond, yet still the female's hand snapped down and clutched onto it, pulling it back and dropping the adolescent male.

Bristol calmly slipped the locket back into her pants pocket, glowering at the youth for a few more moments before shaking her head.

"Let this be a lesson to you, you little sod." She said acidly, her accent unmistakable now. "Leave the thievery behind you and find a real job." 

The male blinked a few times up at the blond haired woman, then collapsed onto the ground from exhaustion.

Bristol turned about and walked on, ignoring the stunned stares that followed her.

_Well, perhaps us reploids are more useful to the human race than they'd like to think,_ Bristol thought drily, her ungloved hands stuffed loosely into her blue overcoat's exterior pockets.

_If anything, we can stop their children from being arrested on charges of petty larceny._

Kazok Gravor grunted in dismay as Dash Blade whipped an outstretched talon of plasma energy towards him, looking for the winning strike.

"Not that easy!!" He countered, instantly sending a mental command through his body.

The tiny transmitter embedded in his belt absorbed the order and passed it on through narrow beam transmission to the black hexagonal crystals stretched about his body, not connected by tether, wire, or armor…but by a mere field of gravitational energy.

Instantly, Kazok swerved away, suspended slightly above ground by the gravitational field. The slash of plasma energy passed on, dissipating into the air harmlessly.

Some distance away, Shell Butane and Cumulus Bull watched from the vantage point of the spectator's world.

The somewhat bulky, yet heavily protected turtle type reploid harrumphed, his eyes looking on from atop the long snout and beak that emerged from his shell, appropriately a deep green with jagged slashes of red flames adorning the edges as mere art.

"Well, this is definitely interesting to see, eh?" He tilted his gaze away from the two combatants to stare at his associate.

Whereas Shell Butane stood of short, stocky stature, Cumulus Bull stood tall, not nearly as much as Sigma, but close enough to put the turtle Maverick ill at ease.

Blowing a cloud of exhaust from his own animalian snout, the bull Maverick offered a sound that did little to offer his view. His powerful horns however, seemed to quiver with the slight activation of his power, the ability to create ionic disturbances in the low atmosphere and call forth blistering thunderclouds he could control.

A long, whiplike tail quivered behind him, dangling down from his modestly assembled leggings, almost down to the TitaniTefloAlloy edged hooves that served as his feet. His hands however, were as human and as gloved as any other's.

"Kazok has been assigned to be our leader…however, Dash Blade shows perhaps the greatest promise among us for going solo." Cumulus turned back to the fight. "Her style is pure frenzy…unpredictable, up close and personal…she doesn't let up, and that's far unnerving. From what Sigma has told us, past Maverick Generals always left some flaw in their attack pattern that X and Zero could exploit." Cumulus smiled grimly. "Too bad for them we don't follow that ideal."

"We train to be perfect." Shell Butane echoed. "And that's precisely what we'll be when we're done."

The two left it at that, content to stare towards the two almost evenly matched opponents that fought in the dismal environment of Greenland's open expanses.

Kazok opened fire, hurling blast after blast of menacing plasma towards Dash.

The female feraloid, with burning brown eyes, a smallish snout and nose, perfectly shaped cat ears, and a slim body designed for aerobatics, gymnastics, all encased in an armor setup of bright neon pink and deep blood red colorations was proving to be adept, to say the least.

Disengaging her wrist sabers, she began to backflip away from Kazok's widespread and unfocused attack pattern, exploding dips of sublimated steam tracing after her as the plasma missed her and hit only the ice floes. Even in June, Greenland remained a chilly region in places.

Kazok's gaze was firm and unyielding as he followed after her, continuing to fire burst after burst of plasma after her fast fading form. He grimaced inwardly…The feraloid was quick, and speed seemed to be her best ally.

From what he'd been able to gauge so far, Dash Blade's true power didn't lie in long range combat, but rather, close quarters like the Maverick Hunter Zero. At that range, her speed became menacing, and her plasma beam claws menacing. If those failed, Sigma had also given her a backup set of eight inch long slicers embedded in her arms. Constructed of TitaniTefloAlloy, they were considered a last resort measure…but Sigma had given them to her nonetheless.

This stood in direct opposition to Kazok Gravor, whose gravitational pods allowed him to remain airborne as he fired down on a foe from above. He could go higher…much higher, in fact, and much faster if he wanted, but he was taking it slow for now. Kazok, with his semi-menacing X-Buster had been built for the long range scenario…the guns at twenty paces at high noon, if the old west term fit.

His ebony polished armor absorbed the sunlight instead of reflecting it, only the barest hint of glare offered from the sheeny curves and ridges of high strength metal. Adorned on his chest was a circle breastplate that extended from what would be above his navel to the base of his neck, with a pair of triangular shaped arrows arranged bottom to bottom…

Decoration, mainly…but they also gave an extra layer of protection to his chest compartment and the Six Heart Tanks and one Sub-Tank within. 

"Blast it woman, hold still and take your beating!!" Kazok growled menacingly.

And surprisingly…the female Maverick General known as Dash Blade did just that.

Her last backflip was a huge one, taking her to a 90 degree angle askew from Kazok, offering him not a full body shot, but merely a side angle. Her left hand snapped out, and a pair of claws, shining angrily, flashed into view.

Kazok harrumphed and released the level two shot from his Buster he had ready. The 'green sizzler' as it was known, flew on towards Dash Blade at impressive speed.

Far too late did Kazok realize it was not her plasma fueled wrist sabers Dash had activated, but her left arm's three TitaniTefloAlloy beauties, snapping free from the underside of the wrist gauntlet as opposed to the topside of her somewhat more orthodox slashing weaponry.

The shot was easily deflected as she snapped her arm up, providing a thinly edged wall that when twisted sideways only the fewest of degrees, presented a target for the plasma that refused it any gainway.

Kazok reacted too late…Dash was living up to her name, hurtling towards him at the max velocity that her dash thrusters could offer, her right arm's wrist saber claws already out and hissing with their fury.

Crying out, Kazok redirected one of the gravitational pods to break free from his field of suspension. His position quivered for the barest of moments while the remaining pods adapted to fill the void the one had left.

Under its own power, but Kazok's direction, the obsidian shaded gem snapped towards Dash Blade in an effort to quell her assault.

It did little more than jar her slightly askew and bring her arms away from an immediate menacing pose.

Dash Blade and Kazok Gravor collided in midair, both of their weapons systems deactivating upon impact from a sudden loss of focus. Without his gravitational field to suspend him in midair, Kazok dropped towards the glacier below, Dash Blade atop of him.

Their hands intertwined, arms flexing against one another as the feraloid and human type reploid found themselves rolling atop the ice field not in a contest of plasma gun against plasma blade, or TitaniTefloAlloy claw to gravitational suspension field…

But the most age old tradition of fighting, hand to hand, no weapons…

Neither was able to gain any leeway on the other, both so evenly matched in pure physical strength that as they rolled about, their legs interlocked so neither could begin kicking, their arms tied together at the hands to prevent a flurry of punches and faceslaps, it looked almost comical.

The two were hopelessly connected now, neither able to offer the slightest edge of an attack or a deflection.

"It seems…we've dropped into a stalemate…" Kazok grunted, his brow already beginning to show beads of sweat as his body activated the thermal reduction measures to rid his skull of the heat it was producing.

Dash Blade prowwed at him angrily for several more seconds before finally sighing in resignation.

"So it would seem, Kazok." Both stopped their struggling, but when they did, it was Dash Blade who lay atop Kazok, and not the other way around.

Their bodies relaxed from the incredible state of tension they had been forced into…

And yet as Kazok looked up into her slightly bedraggled hairline, long and brown as her eyes, he couldn't help but let his mind drop into a sudden blank.

_Aah, wake up Kazok…You're a Maverick, Mavericks don't think about…_

"Hey, Kazok?" Dash muttered with slight alarm, climbing off the top of him and backing away a few feet. "Kazok, you all right? It looks like you dropped into mind freeze…" Kazok blinked his eyes a few time, then reluctantly pulled himself to his feet.

"Aah…No, not a mind freeze, Dash." He finally stammered weakly. 

And yet, as she looked back at his somewhat sheepish attempt at a straight face…

There was an added coloration to her cheeks that hadn't been there, even during the heat of battle…

"Oh, right." She finally replied in a muted tone, averting her brown eyes from his striking gray ones. Folding her arms, she turned about slightly. "You know, that Buster of yours isn't exactly a true menace weapon yet…you should ask Sigma about upgrading it."

"Yeah, I suppose…" Kazok mumbled, ashamed of the low performance of his supposed main weapon. Dash paused for a moment, then turned about and offered the barest of smiles at him.

"However…that was a real neat trick you pulled at the last second…throwing one of your gravitational pods at me to knock the wind out of my attack."

A compliment, Kazok thought with a sudden surge of pride and elation.

The solid obsidian gems that had fallen deactivated to the ground about them powered back up, silently floating towards Kazok before plugging back into their respective sockets around his waist and the modified energy recharge unit.

Dash Blade sighed for a moment and looked up at the sky.

"It's still a while before nightfall, Mr. Nightshade." She offered amusedly. "Care to have another go at it?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Kazok replied, a small grin of his own forming on the edges of his mouth. "But what's this about Mister Nightshade…??"

His question was silenced as he found a maddened Maverick feraloid yowling at the top of her lungs, hurling herself at him as she once more pursued the hunt.

_Oh well, back to the punching bag again…_

Kazok dashed out of the way and snapped his crystalline pods out once more, this time not surrounding himself, but letting them float free a slight distance away from him as Dash set herself on a stop, then charged towards his new position.

"Let's try something else new then…" He mused, his grin growing wider every second.

A fair distance away, Shell Butane clicked his tongue and waggled his eyebrows.

"Well, well…They start out in a game of Maverick cat and mouse, and end up taking a roll in the hay…" Cumulus Bull scoffed and gave a light smack to the back of his associate's head.

"Oh, just shut up. Mavericks aren't capable of that emotion. Twisted humor, anger, rage, menacing glee…but not that emotion." Cumulus couldn't even bring himself to say it, the mere reference to it enough to make him spit in disdain.

Absorbing the meager blow with mild disinterest, Shell Butane turned his calculating eyes towards the two strongest combatants of their six and watched once more.

Could Mavericks find the emotion Cumulus Bull couldn't mention, Shell Butane wondered with mild interest?

Could a Maverick find love??

**_"AN-23 and AN-78, you are outside of your restricted areas!!! Halt and stand down for seizure!!"_**

The human's megaphone enhanced voice echoed across the night of the Middle Eastern landscape, going out only so far before it was lost in the howling wind that kicked up wave after wave of blinding sand.

A pair of Landchasers sped on through the dune peaked wasteland, their engines spouting angry flames as they pushed on ahead. Behind it approached a malevolently designed hovertransport, generic in all fashions except for the large, rotational heavy plasma turret that laid on a base atop its hood. In the last hour before nightfall, the three craft sped across the dunes, oblivious to almost everything except each other.

The heavy plasma turret atop the hovertransport fired, its superheated blast of gas energy hurtling down towards its intended target at just barely under the speed of sound.

The Landchaser's riders however, were not so inexperienced to be caught off guard by a poorly aimed shot. Both swerved in opposite directions from the burst, and the shot fizzled away harmlessly, turning a three foot wide section of desert into crude glass.

Tertrus turned and keyed in the infared frequency, his Landchaser's communications array calmly turning the tiny laser transmitter towards Bastion's own cycle and sending his message.

"This is definitely not good news for us." Bastion swerved away from another shot and offered a biting retort.

"No kidding." Bastion and Tertrus had planned this escape for months now…

Only two of them, against the entire Jihad forces that were stationed at their base. Perhaps the only bit of good news they had was that made it out twenty klicks before their absence had been noticed. They'd taken two Landchasers out for supposed routine engine testing…but it was when they didn't turn back around that they'd first been issued severe warnings to turn back…and finally, they had dispatched the hovertransport to tag them. 

Tertrus and Bastion were all too aware of the positives and negatives that accompanied the Jihad's hovertransports…one of its benefits was a massively powerful overdrive function to its engines that allowed it to boost to insane speeds across the desert terrain for twenty five clicks. Past that, they overheated and had to revert back to normal mode for a very large amount of time. 

Which resulted in the hovertransport catching up to them…yet being unable to do more than merely dog behind once it had caught up to them…that and fire round after dangerous round of fire that could utterly destroy them in one blow.

If they let it.

**_"Blast it, you two!! Give yourselves up and your deaths will be painless!!"_**

"Gee, what a terrific incentive." Bastion growled. He flipped his comm channel on to full bore, so that the hovertransport and his home base could hear him.

"Now listen here!!" Bastion screamed into the comm, the wind whipping by him as he accelerated his Landchaser a bit more to increase the distance between himself and the hovertransport. "For years now, we have worked and slaved under the yoke of servitude you've given to us! YEARS!! But let me make one thing clear, you members of the Jihad…" Bastion turned to Tertrus, who merely stared back at him, waiting for the rest of his answer. Bastion's gaze hardened, and turned back to facing forward.

"THIS IS YOUR FIGHT." Bastion exclaimed tersely. "If you want to continue this wasted conflict because of your STUPID religious differences with the residents of Israel, go right ahead. But from this day forward, you will not use my hand to do your needless destruction. I am my own person, and as much as you try to deprive us of our individuality, you FAIL. It only grows stronger when it is oppressed."

**_"Goddamn you, AN-78…"_**

"I AM NOT AN-78!!!" Bastion screamed, slamming his comm off.

The infared signal from Tertrus came in clear enough.

"Well, that's telling them off. I couldn't have said it better myself." 

The wind began to pick up as night continued to fall…the sand that had merely brushed the soles of their dash boots now picked up enough to blow past their eyes. Squinting, Tertrus shook his head. "Bastion, there's a storm picking up around here!!"

"I know, Tertrus." The orange and red colored reploid said back to his ally. His eyes glimmered strangely. "The desert is cruel and harsh…and it would claim these fools as soon as us."

Suddenly, the heavy plasma turret atop the hovertransport spun about in a strange fashion.

As Bastion's gaze swiveled around to watch, he couldn't help but let his eyes darken…

"CHRIST, WATCH OUT TERTRUS!! THE CANNON'S SWITCHED TO RAPID FIRE!!"

"Oh, God no…" Tertrus began. His sentence was cut short as the cannon atop the pursuing hovertransport exploded in fire once more, only now the shots came in faster volley.

Tertrus swerved and dodged as best he could…but the improved mode of fire allowed the gunner inside to accurately trace the escapees.

The back end of Tertrus's Landchaser was slagged, and then exploded into flames, causing both the cycle and Tertrus to wobble strangely out of synch and finally crash at maximum speed into a nearby dune.

"TERTRUS!!!" Bastion screamed at the top of his lungs. 

And the desert swirled about them…

Bastion found that an unnatural curtain of sand suddenly separated himself and the hovertransport, one that saved him from the same horrifying blaze of fire as Tertrus had suffered.

"Bastion…" The comm circuit wasn't infared anymore, but now small range radio transmissions…not large enough for anyone to hear but Bastion and the hovertransport. "Damnit, Bastion, they got me…"

"Tertrus, just stay put! I'll find you!!" Now the wind was whipping the sand around in a roiling wave…visibility was barely ten feet.

"No time, damn you…" The more experienced reploid wheezed, hacking up what had to be some of his blood. "Find the hovertransport and take it out…It's the only way you can escape."

"Tertrus…"

But no answer came. Through the wailing dim, Bastion's ears picked out an unnatural sound…more than likely an explosion, but he couldn't be sure.

All of Bastion's fury now ignited like it had never done so before…

"DAMN YOU ALL!!!" He screamed over his comm circuit. 

_I am the Desert Fire…_

And they will burn for what they have done here today!!!

His eyes blurred through a haze, Bastion felt like he was running on little more than instinct…

But his instincts proved right enough.

The sandstorm cleared up just enough for him to see that the direction he had turned his Landchaser towards led straight to the hovertransport. Grasping tightly onto the cycle's left throttle bar, he readied his right arm's Buster.

"Go to Hell, you MONSTERS!!" He screamed. Both the nose cannon of his Landchaser and his Buster erupted in horrific rapid fire plasma bursts, until his body was sending him warning messages about his Buster's overheating problem and the bike did the same.

But the hovertransport was caught completely off guard. The shots burrowed into the rear armor of the carrier, melting away at the protective barrier and finally striking at the engines.

The entire hovertransport exploded only a second later as the microfusion powered engines destabilized and took the carrier with it.

The shockwave, however, was enough to jar both Bastion and his Landchaser free of the ground.

Dazed and weakened by his ordeal, Bastion felt his eyes begin to slip shut as his body sent him warning messages about the damage caused by the hovertransport's concussion wave from the explosion and his flashburns…

And then he was falling, falling down and down into darkness, with the howling wind of night and a hazy, scattered sky above the last things his mind could recall before it merely blinked off.

"Hey!" An insistent voice…

"Hey, are you alive there??" This time, a gentle nudge into his side. 

The sudden flash of pain that traced up into Bastion's mind and snapped him fully awake with a painful gasp was positive proof enough to the question.

"Whu…??" He began groggily, before realizing his body was still sending him warning messages.

A steady pair of hands pushed him back down before he could stand up.

"Easy there, stranger." The accent was one Bastion couldn't recall ever hearing before…"You've been through Hell."

"Was I alone…" Bastion croaked, his eyes slowly grinding back into focus. He found himself staring into the eyes of a short, stocky man with inquisitive eyes…and an even more inquisitive reploid standing beside him.

The reploid, all silver and gray nodded slowly.

"You were the only one alive out here." Bastion shut his eyes, trying to shut out the sudden hollow achiness that filled his heart.

_Tertrus…I'm sorry…_

It had been Bastion's idea to escape their damnable existence…he'd dragged Tertrus into it, and now Tertrus was dead, never to revel in the freedom they had struggled so long for.

"Still, it looks like there was quite a battle." The human man, middle aged with a large, oddly shaped hat and leather vest said.

"Jihad forces…trailing me and my friend." Bastion muttered through his stupor.

"JIHAD??!" The man sputtered indignantly. "God damnit, those sonsabitches are still around??!" Bastion offered no response. 

The reploid slowly helped him to his feet, looking at a medical scanner in his other hand before looking into Bastion's face.

"You've got some flashburns, some mild concussion damage…but overall, just a lot of sand wedged in places it shouldn't be." The reploid gave a slight grin. "Aah, you look like a survivor. We'll take you back to our home and get you fixed up right."

Bastion blinked his eyes a few times, then nodded slowly. The silvery reploid coughed for a moment.

"Say, I got a question for you. What's your name, stranger?" The Desert Fire, as he had eventually learned in the service that the Israelis called him, offered one response.

It wasn't his serial number…now and forever, he was separated from that life. He'd severed all ties…the Jihad knew him as AN-78…

"My name is Bastion." The orange and red armored reploid muttered at last, pulling off his helmet and dumping the copious amounts of sand that had somehow worked their way underneath his brow.

The human and the reploid stared in wonder for a moment at their newfound associate, and his mottled brown hair. Freed of its imprisonment, it tried to take on a shaggy, yet precise appearance. Bastion calmly snapped his helmet back on and prevented it from doing that.

The human laughed, his belly quivering a bit.

"Yep, I suppose so. My name's Hank Johnson, but all my friends, like Jazzhands here call me Tex." He motioned to the silvery reploid with a jerked thumb. 

Bastion frowned for a moment.

"Jazzhands?" He queried softly. The silvery reploid grinned, wiggling his gloved fingers in the now close to midday sun…

Bastion had been out cold all night, and would have remained buried and in stasis without his newfound comrades.

" Actually, my real name is Timothy, but they call me Jazzhands for a reason, Bastion." The reploid guffawed. "Have you ever seen a piano?"

"A what??" Bastion muttered, unwilling to offer even a guess as to what it might be. Jazzhands groaned and drew a hand over his face.

"God, you must have been out in this sun too long. Tex, let's roll this boy home, all right?" The human took off his hat and brushed at his forehead's line of sweat for a moment, then nodded.

"Well, come on Bastion. We gotta get you out of this sun before I roast into a corn fed beefsteak."

Bastion finally blinked his eyes and brought himself out of his memory loop.

"Freeze program…" He uttered hoarsely.

The desert of December 19th, 2118 froze all around him, leaving Bastion standing in the midst of frozen destruction-destruction that back in that actual fight had been little more than a prelude to the Maverick's capture of Cornus Island and the subsequent Second Uprising.

Silently, he cursed himself. He should have known that using this particular holographic run would have triggered memories he would very well like to be without…

Which made him laugh inwardly a bit. Here was Bristol, so distraught about her lost past, she was teetering on the edge of insanity until she rediscovered what exactly only appeared as flashes she could not recognize…

And then there was him. Bastion, the Desert Fire before he'd met Bristol…now the Desert Angel.

Unlike his love, Bastion would very much like to forget his own past. How many innocents had he wiped out because of the orders of his superiors…

And it hadn't been just reploid forces he had been thrown up against…

He had fought and killed HUMANS as well. Many times Bastion had wrestled with the ethical questions of his actions…there'd been times in those early days after his escape during his time with 'Tex' and 'Jazzhands' he had even pondered if he should end his own shameful and bloodstained life.

But in the end, he had found his desire for life was stronger than his guilt…

And he tempered his guilt by joining the Maverick Hunters. As a member of the Jihad, he had been a slave to a violent war that had gone on for hundreds of years, not between two races, one of who would see the other extinct…but just two religious branches of the same species. It was petty, it was stupid…and it was all too human.

As a Hunter, he still brought death. But now, he brought death to those who deserved it. Not innocents.

It was the best Bastion knew what to do…it was what he had grown up doing. And if there were consequences that would come because of his actions, he would face them in due course. And that was the best any of his kind could do.

"End program." He finally muttered. The night sky of December 19th faded into oblivion, and once more Bastion was surrounded by the familiar walls of the holographic training room.

Silently, he deactivated his blue and purple beam sabers, shutting them off before slipping them back into their respective recharging ports atop his armor attachment on his back.

He walked out of the room, at last weary from the day's exertions.

He'd faced his nightmares, he'd relived his bloodied past.

And like so many humans seemed willing to do…

Bastion was ready to move on.

The night sky was the same for all who viewed it. Human and reploid alike.

In the grand picture, the distinctions became far smaller than some would like it.

Bastion harrumphed inwardly as he worked his way to the main hallways and headed towards his room. "This philosophy shit gets too deep for me sometimes."

Too deep for many, it would seem.


	11. Humble Beginnings

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER NINE: HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

"Soon, you shall awaken…this time, as a Maverick, and only aware of me."

Sigma wasn't the type of all powerful, undying Maverick Leader who relied too heavily on the advice of others. Nonetheless, his discussion with Kazok two days ago had found a deeply rooted chord in his mind…in that mess of sinister plots, shattered hopes, twisted dreams and what little was left of the original Sigma that had fought Zero more than 13 years ago was all thrown in together, so tightly compacted by his program size that there was no dividing it apart. As far as Sigma was concerned, it was all just one big discordant mess…a trail of psychosis he barely kept tabs on.

He didn't cry out for understanding or empathy…He knew he could never expect it from any of his foes or his Maverick Generals, most so brainwashed that little else crossed their minds but the three prime directives of the Maverick…_Destroy, Infect, Survive._

But there were times he wished he could…that someone might understand what he was trying to do, someone who would stand ardently by him. In all his fevered thoughts, Sigma had managed to delude himself into thinking that his quest, his quest to end all human life and forge a new world with just reploids, all ruled by him…was not only the RIGHT path of events, but that it was the ONLY one.

What he still laughed about bitterly was that in a sense, that Repliforce fool Iris had wished for the same thing.

_"All I wanted…was to live in a world just for reploids…with you…"_ And still, those haunting words echoed in Sigma's mind. That was part of what drove him on now. In a way, she understood part of what he did…

And if the circumstances had been different, she might have stood at his side, and not Zero's. 

That constituted the basis of this experiment. While the Maverick Generals either practiced above ground or worked below in the marginally sized bases' other rooms, Sigma sat at the controls of his synthesizing capsule, the one he had been reborn from. With the glass and all too important fluid replaced, it once more was active, once more growing life.

As close to a womb as a reploid had yet, a new figure grew within the walls and liquid warmth, its outline slowly taking shape.

A day ago, it had been little more than a skeleton, a roughly strewn schematic of the interior.

But today, the beauty emerged…and although reploids had not the reproductive aspects of their human counterparts, they nonetheless had the sexual beauty…if their makers so chose.

_Humans say that God made them in his own image…_Sigma mused wryly. He unashamedly stared at the transfigured vixen within, her lips slightly parted, her long brown hair suspended in the water, and modestly, her body draped in a skintight black adornment that did nothing to hide the angelic form it had been designed implicitly to do…but then, beauty is not a thing easily hidden.

_And humans make us 'humanoid' reploids in their image…_

Yet, we stand as monoliths of beauty and unblemished perfection…

If it was the same way with their supposed God, then perhaps the phrase should be, "God made man in the image He wished He himself existed as" instead of that overused tripe.

She slept…but it would not be long now. 

Sigma felt an air of weariness begin to fall over him. He had worked nonstop on her recreation from scratch…Almost from scratch.

He had given her mind that sense of naivete, that gentle and almost sickening innocence. The reason was simple enough to his cold, heartless mind. All it took was one intelligent enough to understand his motive for this.

Aside from that, she would awaken into the world as stunned, as open eyed as any reploid who awakes from the void for the first time.

"Great galaxies above…" Came a breathless statement of obvious surprise. Sigma's temper flared for the briefest of moments, but it ended itself, and whoever stood behind him, having intruded into his inner _sanctum sanctorum_ was spared what had once been his customary response to even mild insubordination…a full fisted punch that sent anyone headfirst into a wall. As his rational self took over, Sigma questioned if he hadn't softened some over the years.

He turned about, none too surprised to see Kazok Gravor, the inquisitive, yet loyal commander of his new Maverick legion standing stiff still, looking onto the glowing capsule and its ethereal contents in awe.

"She…She's beautiful." Kazok finally uttered when he could speak again. Sigma cackled.

"Captivating, yes…but realize her beauty exists only to blind those she would fight…before she attacks them." The Maverick Leader turned back to his controls and sighed. "Yes, Kazok, this is the same reploid I told you about two days ago."

Kazok didn't answer, his eyes glazed as he was either unwilling or unable to tear his gaze from the epitome of feminine beauty. Sigma's back tensed up as he growled, "You keep staring like that, I'll rip your eyes out." 

Kazok's gaze lowered, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He walked over next to Sigma and shrugged.

"So our conversation had an influence on you?"

"If one were to compare my decision to a weigh scale, all you added was a mere grain of rice to my tally." Sigma replied tonelessly. "I bring her to life now for many reasons…Your talks with me being a marginal one."

Chastised, Kazok shrugged to hide his disappointment and tapped on the side of his arm.

"Anyhow boss…"

"WHAT did you call me??!" Sigma exclaimed tersely. Kazok became unnerved, straightening his posture as he coughed.

"Anyhow, SIR…"

"Better, Maverick." Sigma muttered sourly.

"Dash Blade and I have noticed a flaw in my design."

"And that would be…"

"My Buster could use a few upgrades…right now, it's relatively weak."

"Just what exactly did I give you…" Sigma mused, only half focused on his subordinate.

"A variant of the Mark 18, sir." Kazok said back quickly. Sigma pursed his lips and shrugged.

"You should be able to find something to your liking, or something at least you could use to improve that deficiency over in the storage depot area." It was a suggestion, but Kazok also caught the razor thin undertone to it.

Sigma was telling him to leave…in so many icily toned words.

"Right. I'll see you later then." Kazok left the room and closed the door behind him, involuntarily shuddering as he did.

And once more, Sigma found himself plunged into a room of darkness, much like his existence…

But now, there was a pale green light that shone in it…a pale green glow that hovered about his new pet project like a hallowed aura.

Her eyes were still closed…dreaming a dreamless sleep, still waiting after all these years and hoping that her reality she had so dared to fathom might yet come to pass.

Sigma slowly walked up to the synthesizing chamber's clear wall, unconsciously raising a hand up to its cool glowing surface and gently rubbing the side.

His eyes, his always dead and morose eyes now shone a dim sheen…a spark of life within him that was deeper than any before.

"And yet, the angel sleeps…" Sigma whispered tonelessly.

Even her feet, no longer suspended in the cumbersome dash boots that were so commonplace to all reploids, glowed in that innocent light with their smallish, five toed glory. Her frame had never been one of much build or weight…a mere feather soft wisp of a thing. From head to toes, human…yet beyond human.

"Soon, Iris…" Sigma promised the slumbering maiden within. "Soon…"

Bristol awoke from her slumber, her mind suddenly flashing open in epiphany.

And all of it came from the stern, wizened face of Emilius Cristoph and his all too enchanting voice.

_MI9 did not begin with that name, certainly not. It came about because of necessity, the need for a Red Herring. Understand that Great Britain did and still does have it's Mis…MI5, for instance, and that mythical MI6 James Bond worked for. MI9 is a misnomer of the greatest caliber, because it is in no way associated with Her Majesty's government…_

"Gods above…" Bristol mumbled, trying to bring about that sudden subconscious flash of information from her dream to the realm of the waking world. Brushing her blond hair back, she cut herself away from the waking world for precious moments longer…pleading for her recollection to continue.

_MI9 had its rather humble beginnings, I can assure all of you. The root of what would be MI9 was born in 2047, an assimilation of scientists, visionaries, and environmentalists all…In the aftermath of the troublesome wars of 2040, humanity was left with a very explicit path…reconstruction. Undoubtedly, you are familiar with Treeborgs? They came about during this time._

And yet as it continued, Bristol screamed inwardly.

**_The NAME, damnit…I NEED THE NAME!!!_** But Cristoph, a human she knew more by her faded and fogged memories than conscious recollection, spoke with a steady monotone, his speech definitive.

_The Earth was in crisis…no eyebrows were raised when some of the greatest minds of their time gathered together for greater purpose. Oh, we had many…And it worked, for a time. _

But remember, time always changes…some of that group's members chose to walk in a separate direction when the organization found itself heading down a path it could not have predicted at its foundation.

The time of that group's life was from 2047 to 2068. And its name, if you couldn't remember it already…

Bristol clamped her hands over her ears, feverishly shutting out every stimulus…every thought except for the hazy memory brought forth by dreaming, and the need for it.

_…Was the Second Rainbow._

Bristol lowered her trembling hands…

And the answer was that simple. She had been trying to find MI9 by its present…and that had come to no avail.

What she needed to do was travel back into its past…

Epiphany. She unsteadily picked herself up, shaking her head in disbelief, and tears suddenly springing to her face.

Progress had been slim to none…and like a lighthouse that shone in the worst of the fog, the answer had come in the darkest hour.

She looked about the cheap motel room, then nodded calmly with a relieved smile through her blurry optics.

"Finally…" She managed to choke out. Gray spirits had fallen on her…but at last, they were ended.

Making sure her motel room door was locked, she stared at the alarm clock beside her bed. Strangely, the motel room had changed little over the years, from what little research she'd managed.

Only 7:00 A.M. local time...yes, it was time indeed for a new coming.

But first…

She walked into the bathroom and started up the shower, thankful that hot water was also still a part of the bargain. Shifting out of her clothes and storing them in her Warp Generator's memory, she gingerly stepped inside the tub and focused the spray on herself.

No matter what humans thought, reploids still got dirty, and required cleaning from time to time. But few reploid models nowadays had an entire synthskin underneath their armor and synthfabric garments. Bristol did…and she knew Bastion had one as well. Others, she wasn't sure about, and she didn't intend to discover. For Bristol, the shower was more symbolic than medical…a tiny reminder that she was not the mindless mass of metal so many humans considered reploids to be.

Strangely, she found herself humming a tune as she reached for the bottle of shampoo provided for her. She cracked a smile when she realized what it was…

"Rule Brittania."

For no particular reason, Pharaoh Man had wandered down to the innermost section of the Fourth Ring. Walking with quiet solemnity, he had approached it for no other reason than in these days of unanswered questions and doubts, he needed to find some solace.

In some respects, his action in that turn was more human than he could have ever predicted. Humans also had a tendency to flake out, to seek something concrete and definitive in times of strain.

Cossack remained as bedridden as ever…Kalinka somehow found the energy to run a tour again, with the help of Bright Man and Toad Man. The other five Robot Masters were scattered around the sections of the Citadel not on the tour, performing various maintenance duties.

Pulling his facemask back, he switched on the lights in the decently sized room…space constraints were of little consequence underneath the ground in the Siberian wasteland, uncolonized and unused since the fall of Communism.

Reverently, he approached the always inactive and battle torn body of Mega Man…kept here in what could be considered his mausoleum, resting on a good sized slab of polished marble.

Pharaoh Man remembered the day that the grief stricken Light had brought the forever shattered Blue Bomber to Cossack's Citadel…Light, wizened and far past his prime…Cossack, still young and vibrant with his light brown hair…but the look of sorrow they shared had been one and the same. Even Kalinka, who had just reached eighteen, had been somber.

_"I could do nothing for him…the damage to his systems was far too extensive. My…My son will never again be there for the world."_ Light had spoken, barely able to choke out the words. And Cossack's reply had been as somber as well.

_"If only we'd had more time…If I had known what Wily was planning, I would have sent Pharaoh Man and the others to aid you…"_ Pharaoh Man turned away from Mega Man's body, forever preserved, never decaying, and looked around the room.

Shadows of the past still flickered in his memory…there had stood Kalinka, fully dressed in black, the color of human mourning. Light and Cossack…well, they had been where X's 'information' capsule now lay.

_"Wily will never again plan anything. When Bass arrived to warn us, he was in tears…that demon creation of Wily had risen up and destroyed its master in its first act of life." _Light's voice had been bitter, it had been angry, it had been defeated…

The grandfatherly figure of Thomas Xavier Light, or Right as it was sometimes mispronounced in Japan, had seen his two sons, his one daughter…his entire family destroyed at the hands of a robot that went beyond robot…It had changed him to a mere shadow of the person he once was.

_"And what of the demon?"_ Cossack queried. Light had to compose himself for a moment before he continued, and even then his voice was quivering.

_"Duo…him and Auto were the only ones to survive the fight. Duo had a sudden flash of foresight. He prevented Auto from administering the final blow in the full fury of his rage. 'This one's future...' he said in that damnable grave tone, 'Is intertwined with that of Mega Man X.' He'd turned to me then, full of disbelief…"_

"MEGA MAN X??" Cossack had sputtered in disbelief. Light had cowered then.

_"Yes…I have a feeling that Wily's demon was created for the simple reason to act as a counterpoint to Mega Man X."_

"But how did…"

"Wily make such a thing?? Bass had stolen the plans from my lab back during the Seventh Robot Rebellion…Not only plans for Rush's new enhancements, but the preliminary design schematics to X."

"What is so special about this X?"

"He is more than a robot, Sergei…" Light had continued wearily. "Mega Man was more than a robot…And X is more than Mega Man. In all respects, he is a human made out of metal. Upon awakening, he will be little more than a newborn…his attitude, outlook and demeanor completely dependent on the experiences he gains."

"My God…" Cossack had gaped then. _"You mean to say…"_

The silence between the two scientists had been deafening, interrupted only by Kalinka's soft cries.

The world did not cry. The world did not know. 

Wily merely faded from public view…so did Mega Man. 

_"I must bury one son…but I must ensure the life of another." _Light had mumbled through his emotional fatigue. _"I ask of you to keep Mega Man's body here…"_

"What about Roll and Bass and Protoman?"

"There was nothing of them to bury." Light had snapped through a cracked voice. Pharaoh Man, even in his limited state of sentience back then, had understood Light's sudden outburst that left him on the verge of tears.

They had been blown or hacked to pieces…if not worse.

_"Wily's demon has been taken back to my nemesis's final base…and buried in the capsule he was spawned from. Duo did it…he told me that upon the demon's placement, the capsule activated of its own will to restore it. Years…more than thirty years for all his damage to be repaired, and he awakes once more."_

"And what will you do now?"

"The only thing I can, Sergei. Duo told me that in the coming age, Wily's demon would not be the true threat…And now, it seems that the son I created to live in peace must now have the function of war." 

The ceremony had been short…the implications of it, and the implications of the future had taken far more time. 

It marked the end of an era for them…the age of Mega Man had come and gone, and in the end, it had not been Wily who had taken Mega Man's life, but that of his last Hellspawn.

_"Sergei…you are the only link that I have now. And I have something more to ask of you."_

"Name it." The Russian roboticist had uttered. 

_"I cannot help but fear that X might very well undergo the same change as Wily's creation did…more research must be done of course, but…" Light shook his head. "It boils down to the fact that I am going to run scans on Mega Man X for a similar period of time that Wily's own creation is frozen at. I must prevent even the slightest chance of that same occurrence." _Cossack hadn't spoken, waiting for Light to continue…and he had.

_"But when X emerges…I will be dead, Cossack. I am not as young as I was, and my sole surviving son will face a world without my guidance. To that end, I ask that you guard an object for me…guard it until Mega Man X comes looking for it."_

"Why would he come here??" Cossack had muttered. Light's eyes twinkled with saddening knowledge.

_"Because he will want the answers…And because you were an associate of mine, he shall come, suspecting there is something here to be found. That will be what I send you…a capsule much like the one I shall keep X entombed in. It shall contain all the answers he will have ever wanted to know…about how I designed him, how I built him…what his brother did…it shall be a living holographic diary, inscribed by me for his use."_

And Pharaoh Man had heard all that. That had been in 2085…

In 2087…October 2087, to be more precise, Old Tokyo was hammered by the fiery eruption of Mount Fuji…Light's lab and almost all of the city was lost…a moratorium was placed over the area…

And then 30 years later, in 2117, the archaeologist and minor roboticist James Cain had rediscovered Light's lab…and Mega Man X.

Pharaoh Man blinked his eyes, turning his gaze towards Mega Man.

A feeling of sorrow, if it was such a thing, fell over him.

"Remembering the past?" Came a muted voice from afar. Pharaoh Man turned about, then nodded as he relaxed.

"It is a powerful thing…more powerful than some would like to consider it. I am of the past…yet here I am, in the future." Pharaoh Man shook his head. "I suppose you know Cossack deteriorates further in his health?" 

X gave a grim nod, looking towards his brother on the altar.

It was Mega Man's helmet that X wore…the symbol passed down from one generation to the next. 

"The next question to ask of you would be, why are you here, and not back at Maverick Hunter HQ?" Pharaoh Man continued. X walked next to the Robot Master and glumly shrugged his shoulders.

"For one, I owed Mega a visit…and two, there's a problem that's occurred with my armor sets. I was hoping that Light's information capsule would hold the answers I need."

"Is it serious?" Pharaoh Man asked, his voice lilting to concern. X bobbed his head.

"Without my armor sets, I'm a less effective Hunter…in most cases, that is what gives me the narrowest of edges to win."

"So you need them, and there's something wrong with them." Pharaoh Man turned to the capsule. "Well, if the answers are in there, good luck finding them. I've tried time and time again to get it to respond, but…"

Pharaoh Man shut himself up as X took a few quiet steps towards the gift of knowledge his father had left him. 

The energy wall of the capsule, bathed in blue, descended and disappeared, once more revealing the form of Doctor Light as he was late in his life…tired, wizened, and defeated…yet hopeful.

_"Mega Man X…" _Light rasped. _"This marks the second time you have come to the capsule I sent to Sergei Cossack's Citadel for safekeeping. Thus, I can only surmise that the questions you seek answers for were not revealed in my first message."_

A keyboard slid out of one side of the capsule, and Light smiled gently.

_"By all means…ask, my son."_

Pharaoh Man whistled as X went to the side and began to type in his first query.

"How did you do that?"

"The capsules were built for me…and the capsules react only to me." X shrugged. "Undoubtedly, it's some sort of security measure my dad designed…but we can ask him about it."

"What else can we ask him?" Pharaoh Man queried. X's face fringed on joy and sadness.

"Whatever he knows about."

Wycost was once more back in his home element…he knew the city of New York backwards and forwards. Every alley, every street, every nook and cranny…and most importantly, every doughnut shop…was embedded in his mind.

Of course, considering he had been a member of New York's SWAT, or more correctly, MSWAT(Maverick SWAT) team from 2118 to 2130, that almost went without saying. 12 years of experience could do a lot for a person.

One of the things he knew how to do very well was look for someone. However, Bristol was proving a very missing person…the back of Wycost's mind mused that perhaps she had vanished off to some other place on the world, and left him here without the damndest clue as to where to head next.

He did, however, have someone else he was trailing aside from Bristol…a worrisome presence at best.

His eyes dragged themselves across the street…

"Hell." Yeah, she was still there. Green eyes, red flaring hair, Irish accent…

This marked the third time now he had seen the mysterious Willow wandering about in the same places as himself…and Bristol. Twice made it a coincidence…but three times now bored deep into his gut that it was more than that.

Wycost had been trailing Willow for the last forty minutes, after he'd spotted her by Central Park. In a crowd of this many people, she wasn't all that likely to try something.

And enough was enough.

Wycost deftly made his way through the crowd, at last pulling himself three feet behind Willow in the droning masses.

Wycost's hand was only six inches from her arm before she spoke up.

"Don't do it, Wycost." The Bronx Bomber tensed up in surprise. Willow chuckled softly, and a few heads in the gaggle of humans surrounding them turned their heads. "What, ye didnae think I noticed you already? I know ye've been following me."

Willow calmly eased herself away from the busy street and turned into an alleyway. Wycost followed, his eyes tense behind his sunglare glasses.

Willow turned and faced him, her eyes cold and immovable, one hand to her hip, staring defiantly at him. Wycost returned as much of the intimidation as he could.

Two reploids, hidden in the disguise of street clothes…

"Just what are you doing here?" Wycost growled. Willow looked at him with contempt.

"Sightseeing, perhaps?" The Bronx Bomber tensed up.

Everything about Willow's stance betrayed an air of confidence, of cold purpose…of immutable strength and skill. Wycost's own spoke the same, yet neither backed down.

"I have my doubts about you, Willow." Wycost stated flatly. Willow nodded.

"As I do of you too, boyo." 

"If you are an enemy, I will not allow you to continue whatever it is you plan to do."

"I plan to have a discussion with my friend…if I can find her." Willow shot back testily. "I donnae know what it is you hope to do."

Wycost felt threatened by Willow's words…But the situation kept him unharmed by the fear.

He pointed a finger at her. "Let's just hope we don't cross paths again. Because if we do, then I'll know it's more than coincidence, and you and I are trailing the same person."

"Oh, and just what would come about at a future meeting?" Willow mouthed darkly. Wycost adjusted his leather jacket, then turned about and walked away.

Only his quiet air of ability spoke for him.

Willow harrumphed and turned in the opposite direction, jumping up the side of the alleyway's building and standing on its rooftop.

Wycost walked in, blending and finally vanishing into the crowd.

Willow's green eyes burned hotly as she watched him go. Wycost's stance, his own attitudes also spoke of talent in battle…But such a time would come.

Wycost couldn't understand what she hoped to accomplish…Hell, she didn't know what he was trying to do either.

But the both of them were immeasurably intertwined with Bristol's fate…

"Some day…" Willow breathed. "Some day, you fools will realize that some pasts are best left forgotten."

_"We are the Second Rainbow…" Rasped Ezriah Hyrmue, famed Treeborg nanoroboticist. "We were brought together because we sought to turn our barren planet back into what it was before…Before the Fall."_

The meeting was taking place in the Second Rainbow's headquarters, in the pristine environment of Alaska during the temperate summertime months. The year was 2067, during the new era.

The 'Fall' as it was known, was a culmination of mankind's energy resources at last drying up. The oil left by the decay of the dinosaurs had reached such a low point that prices were beyond outrageous…

And that led to war…the struggle for resources. Mankind was nothing, if not predictable…

And for the first time, nuclear weapons had been put to general use…

The cities survived, off-limits by mankind's cautious waves…but what existed in the aftermath were vast swaths of land that were uninhabitable, where armies had once stood.

By necessity, the Second Rainbow had come into being. In the overwhelming crisis that followed mankind's deadliest inner conflict, it had finally realized the danger it brought to itself, and the Earth that had sustained them for millions of years.

The Second Rainbow was the team responsible for the recovery of Earth…Scientists of all breeds, creeds, races…nothing that distinct mattered anymore. All that did was that the Earth was poisoned and beaten…and it needed to be saved.

The advent of Treeborgs, of revolutionary anti-radiation treatments comparable to the oil spill cleanup technologies of years past had come into being. Nuclear power now found its ultimate role, as fusion was perfected…no longer would humanity need the squandered fossil fuels of its past. In an age where desperation led to necessity, things ran on fusion, on fission, and on solar.

It was technology, the technology of man combined with man's mind that gave them the tools to save their dying world, to create a penance for their sins.

But what happened today…Today, in 2067, was the downfall of the Second Rainbow…Called such because according to The Bible, God created a rainbow as his promise to man that he would not destroy them again after the trial known as "Noah's Ark".

The Second Rainbow…Mankind's Rainbow…was called such because in the aftermath of the Fall, humanity sobered itself from its drunken euphoria, a euphoria that had carried all through the 1900's and into the 21st Century that they were Gods…that technology made them impervious.

God never promised mankind with that First Rainbow that man could not destroy itself…that was a promise humanity made to itself. The Second Rainbow.

"Technology is what allowed us to save this world!" Thomas Xavier Light said forcefully. 

"Technology is also what caused us to threaten it in the first place." Came the reply of Darwin Vinkus, the figurehead of the Second Rainbow's 'Anti-Tech' faction. "Technology has gone too far, Doctor Light."

"**Scheisse**, would you quit your overdramatic ramblings for one moment and listen to common sense?!!" Came the voice of Light's associate, Dr. Albert William Wily. His crazily unkempt gray hair danced about the bald spot of his head and he twitched his mustache in anger. "Technology is here, we live with it. We cannot take that away…not now. To do so would be to threaten humanity ITSELF!!"

A sobering thought from a sober man…a man who at that point in time, was not the same raving lunatic who was responsible for countless troubles that followed.

"Wily, once more you prove your short fuse." Vinkus growled. The gray haired roboticist, more skilled in the construction of robotic bodies than minds simmered in his seat. Light and Wily were the greatest team of their day…Light, a visionary whose revolutionary designs led to more and more advanced robots. There were even LightTech robots now that could understand commands in fifteen different languages, regardless of voice tone or quality…Wily the man who made the bodies of the ingenious robots.

"But my sources tell me that what you two have begun is the ultimate blasphemy…" Vinkus continued, pulling his spectacles off and rubbing them with a dry cloth before placing them back on his fat grubby nose. "From what little I know, it seems you two are building a robot…that is supposed to be a man."

The uproar at that was immense. The anti-tech faction shouting angrily for answers, the pro-techs like Hyrmue applauding loudly to show their support.

And caught in the middle, with a pained gaze was Doctor Light, and with his own immobile frown, Doctor Wily.

The dim finally settled back down, and Wily spoke up.

"So what if we are, Vinkus?" He challenged. "By now, you must realize that there are places on Earth that humans are ill suited for…If we were to design such a robot, with Asimov's Three Laws intact, yet with a far more intact mind than any robot ever before…what we would have is a robot that could work in the most unwieldly of conditions, commanding less sentient robots."

"What you propose…Is a Robot Master??" Vinkus whispered in frightened awe. It was not the term back then that it was now…back then, it held hope, and not the fear that would develop through the Robot Rebellions later on. "And how sentient…"

"Artificial intelligence is a hurdle that is the greatest yet to be faced…" Light continued, picking up for his associate. "What we hope to build is a robot who will have a personality, who will…"

"A HUMAN ROBOT?!!" Vinkus sputtered.

The uproar in the Second Rainbow's great meeting hall began anew…

Light buried his head in his hands, and Wily merely glared across the room to the damned 'Medievalists' who plagued their midst. 

Neither of the two was willing to tell this conference that their experiment with the 'Robot Master' had already begun…

Protoman was fully active…full of quirks as well…But even the acknowledgement of his existence would have proven to be too great a furor for the conference.

As it was…The Second Rainbow's age had already ended…its death knell was tolling.

Bristol blinked herself away from the computer screen as it ended. Stretching her arms, she looked around herself. Here was New York's library…a grand facility, full of research and Fiction and Nonfiction and…

Bristol shook her head. The video file she'd checked out also came with a text attachment, a blurb added to the compiled series by a human historian. She selected it on her viewer and read.

_The Second Rainbow faced its end on July 7th, 2067. By that point in time, its members had divided into two opposing factions: Those who emphasized that such advanced technologies were more of a danger to humanity and to the world than it was a help, and those who flatly stated technology was not the evil the other side claimed it to be._

In the age that we live in now, the age of reploids, it is important to quote Doctor Light: "Technology is not evil…Humanity only makes it evil." Although some will argue, it is a more commonly held belief that the original Mavericks, before the Maverick Virus came into being with Sigma, turned Maverick because like the generations of underpaid, underpriveleged immigrant labor before them, they longed for a better life and were denied even respect.

For better or worse, the guidance of the Second Rainbow was no more, as it dissolved out of existence. It could no longer function, but by that time, its primary reason for existence had ended. Thanks to their efforts, the world had been saved and restored from mankind's era of ignorance.

Doctor Light and Wily went on to complete their teleportation experiments…the end result being the loss of Protoman and Wily's subsequent transformation towards insanity as he continued to use personal warp devices, even though it's dangerous to a human's mind. After that came the advent of Mega Man, the introduction of the Robot Masters…

And as is brought to the public eye, time and time again, Wily's ultimate transformation to a madman bent on world domination, and Mega Man's transformation into the world's hero.

In 2070, the age of global reconstruction ended as Doctor Wily took the six prototype Robot Masters and tried to seize the world hostage…But Mega Man stood up, perhaps more intelligent than most give him credit for…and time after time, put a stop to Wily's plans, never once bringing harm to him.

Bristol stopped there…it went on for about two paragraphs more, but she had read all she needed to.

The Second Rainbow had been made of visionaries and scientists…

And once it had saved the Earth, it dissolved into the tech-lovers and haters.

The Second Rainbow was little more than a minor footnote in history, a crucial one to the survival of the planet, yet overlooked time and time again in favor of the heroic annals recorded of Mega Man and Mega Man X.

History was fickle…

But Bristol's resolve was firm once more.

Calmly, she removed the data disc from the reader and took them both back to the desk. The librarian accepted them perfunctorily, and turned about.

Which suited Bristol fine, she had more important things than small talk.

The next leg of her spirit walk seemed bound and destined to drag her to Alaska…To the home of the defunct Second Rainbow…which MI9 had risen from. 

She calmly walked into the ladies' restroom and dialed into the GPS satellite system above Earth…

She downloaded a location into her Warp Generator and let it take over.

Another woman walked in just then…

She had quite a scare, watching a beam of pink and blue light blast out from one of the stalls and towards the stratosphere.

And Bristol's journey continued.

Mega Man X's question had been answered by Light's typical flair…

_"If you are asking this, then you are undoubtedly puzzled, if not concerned as to why the armor sets I initially provided for you four times before are slowly beginning to fragment into useless data…degrading to a point where they will no longer be useful." _His calm face stared into the nothingness, staring only at the camera that recorded his image for the years to come.

And X and Pharaoh Man could only stand back and wait, both finding themselves enchanted. Light's form doubled over for a moment as he crippled in pain, hacking violently before returning to normal, his eyes slightly dulled with pain, his stature lowered in defeat.

_"X, it was my greatest hope for you that the world you would live in would be one of peace…without conflict. Four times before, the situation became so severe that your presence in it was unavoidable…and during those times, the capsules I created to grant you newfound abilities for your success…for your own life's preservation…responded. But the years pass…and after that Fourth horrifying conflict I cannot predict, yet merely prepare for, and HAVE prepared for…" _Light's voice quivered as its artificial intelligence subroutines kicked in… _"X, the armor sets degrade because your primary function was not that of a warrior. If the need is merited, yes, you can become a protector…but I did not build you for destruction, like Wily did with his demon. That is why they fail. If you feel that your current situation is turning sour, I can offer little more than my deepest regrets. It is a safeguard of the armors…So that if, by some odd chance, they were to fall into the wrong hands, or also so you would find some semblance of peace by your efforts, they would eventually become defunct of their own accord. That is your answer." _

And once more, Light's holographic form shifted into its neutral pose, blankly staring out into the void of endless, unpredicted time…a ghost in the machine that was the only form of presence he could offer to his son.

Pharaoh Man turned up to X, blinking a few times before shaking his head.

"So it seems…That Light did not have the answers after all." The Blue Bomber of 21XX shook his head in dazed disappointment. 

"If there was a way to stop the degradation, he does not mention it." He bowed his head. "But, it's commonplace enough right now, isn't it?" He laughed bitterly. "Everything is dying around me." Pharaoh Man gave him the briefest of smacks in his arm.

"I knew Mega Man." Pharaoh Man glowered. "And not once in his life did he EVER fall into defeatism like you dare to now. Sadness, rage, grief, those I can understand…but to GIVE UP HOPE ITSELF!!" His voice was terse and angry…and the Robot Master knew it. He embraced it. It was emotion…yet more of a transition to the state of mind that almost made him close to reploid standards.

X nodded briefly, still subdued. Pharaoh Man sighed and brought himself back to the console.

"Anything else you'd want to ask him?"

X lifted his head and rattled off a question that was more technical than philosophical. Pharaoh Man deftly typed it in, and Light's hologram flickered.

_"Mega Man X, as your question indicates, you've long been puzzled over how my capsules arrive whenever and wherever they are needed most." _Light's eyes twinkled and tapped on his forehead. _"The answer lies here…in your mind."_

"Your mind is the most sophisticated piece of artificial intelligence technology I have ever created…scientists years in the future will still be stunned and confused by your workings. There are the necessities to your existence…the various neural pathways and whatnot, the control chip, that supercompacted square of hardware that contains the very essence of what makes you 'you'. But alongside all those core components lies a peripheral I added just before I placed you in your diagnostics capsule…a tiny chip, so hardwired and interwoven with your brain that it is impossible to remove, almost impossible to locate. It is an all in one…Part transmitter, part scanner."

"Oh my God…" Pharaoh Man mumbled. X lifted a hand up to silence him, frozen to Light's long saved image.

_"I needed a way to effectively interlink you with the capsules…To ensure that they would only activate in the direst of circumstances, and would only respond to YOU. That chip was the golden fleece of my entire experiment. It continually scans your mind…unobtrusively, I assure you. Only the most vivid of thought patterns are detected…Like the sensation of an upcoming conflict. Every time you have approached War, you have thought of it. That is what triggers the capsules to act…the chip transmitting the activation codes to your wondrous gifts from my grave. Location, intensity...all are known to that chip in your mind. When you approach one in close proximity, it responds to the strong beacon effect of that chip…activating as they always do, giving you my messages and my enhancements. It is that chip which allows the only gifts I can give you to function as smoothly as they do." _Light paused for a moment, subtly returning to his posture of frozen form. Pharaoh Man lifted his head up to X.

"What else should we ask hi…"

_"Even now, I laugh…" _Light cackled, shaking his head. Pharaoh Man cut himself off and went back to X's side, staring at the noble hearted doctor as he looked back up with half a tear in his eye. _"As a youth, I was an avid reader of what is called 'Science Fiction'. But there was an author by the name of Isaac Asimov in particular whose foresighted genius carried on into my age. When robots, real robots became a reality…so did the Three Rules of Robotics, laid out by Asimov. Science Fiction to science fact…every visionaries' dream." _Light laughed again, and wiped at his face. _"But what I ponder now as I record this message about your capsules, I cannot help but recall another series he wrote, aside that of his Robot Novels. His Foundation series, long considered by many critics and commonfolk alike to be some of the greatest fiction ever put to paper. Forget how it speaks of mankind's fall from civilization, how a Galactic Empire crumbles under its own weight of decadence…I think now of the founder of Foundation, of psychohistory, as Asimov called it…Hari Seldon."_

Light now spoke with more than a defeated voice…new vigor found its way to him as his face lightened up in the irony of the moment. Even in the direst of circumstances, the presence of humor in humanity had always existed. And it was not his genius, or his recollections of X's design or his capsules that kept the new Blue Bomber and Pharaoh Man captivated…it was the revelations at last discovered by perhaps the greatest roboticist of reality ever.

_"In the Foundation series, his Foundations, the centerpoints of knowledge and wisdom in the Galaxy's return to barbarism and Medieval degradation of technology, found themselves in crises at certain points in time, when the situation became so dire that the very organizations themselves lay only hairs away from destruction. And at every point, until the introduction of the Mule…no, no, DAMNIT…I'm sorry, I get off track…" _Light put his head in his hands and groaned, shaking it.

_"As I was saying, at every crisis, the late Hari Seldon had a final momento he had left to his people. Using his skills in psychohistory, the ability to predict the actions taken by the masses on accordance of an emotional basis, he was able to pinpoint exactly when the crises would occur…and the actions that would need to be taken at each point to PREVENT them from bringing ruin. That 'momento' left by Seldon, according to Asimov, was some sort of machine that opened up at Noon…and presented a holographic image of the late psychohistorian, with his words to guide them. Hari Seldon ensured the survival of his people, of his movement to prevent the Galaxy's return to barbarism, by leaving what can well now be called a capsule…_

In that same fashion…I leave capsules for you. The gifts I give are not wisdom, instructions from beyond the grave. But nonetheless, the purpose is the same…whether it be information or armor, both Seldon and myself give the next generation the tools it needs to ensure their own survival…and that of the greater populace." Light shook his head.

_"Science Fiction to science fact…" _Light's voice grew calmer now, his revelation at last over with. _"In my day, Science Fiction was so fast becoming science fact. We had gone to space…We had created weapons so powerful, they threatened the very planet…And we had created robots, a breed of children, who through Wily's insane machinations went berserk, just as some had fearfully cried years before. Now, in the final waning days of my life, I create capsules for use in the future to prevent catastrophe. I am reality's version of Hari Seldon." _

Light looked older now, older than he had when he had begun the message that talked of X's capsules. Another revelation had dawned on him…and Thomas Xavier Light, in the time span between 2085 and 2087 had grown too weak and decrepit to take them any longer.

He waved his hand feebly in the air.

_"I…I'm sorry you have to see me like this, X…" _He bowed his head ashamedly. _"I'm just an old man whose family died before he did…and whose only dream resides in you. And I am tired…so very tired…" _Light collapsed into an unseen chair, staring only half aware of the camera. _"But…soon, my efforts shall be done…and I can pass away, knowing I have done all I can for you. I hoped only the best in life for you, X. To be at peace, to know joy and satisfaction…perhaps even love." _He shook his head. _"I'll never know what becomes of you. But as I drift off into sleep, I console myself with my hope…"_

"You are my son, Mega Man X."

"And you will do us all proud."

The capsule's image of Doctor Light shifted back into the stationary pose he always found himself in upon activation.

Pharaoh Man took one look at X, then quietly slipped the keyboard back into its slot in the Capsule. Pharaoh Man was fully aware of the impact that Light's words had had on them…but grief was one emotion that he had not developed yet.

"Stay as long as you need." Pharaoh Man spoke calmly, patting X on the shoulder as he passed out of the room and back into the main areas of the Fourth Ring. Solitude was what X needed now.

For X was in tears…And nothing could hold them back.

Sigma had purposely waited until Midnight to bring his newest creation to life.

Which meant, that with five minutes left to go, he was left sitting outside his sacred synthesizing laboratory, silently ticking off the seconds in his mind. Each more agonizing than the last, part of his fevered mind kicking and screaming for him to rush in there and do it then and now…

But there was enough of the original Sigma left…so far. The original Sigma's program that dictated patience, decorum, tact and sensibility. So he waited.

Kazok Gravor approached him with an air of grinning intelligence.

"Well, you were right…I did find a few things."

"Such as?" Sigma queried back, only giving half of his attention to the conversation.

"Some plasma grenades, an upgraded Buster System that lets me use both arms at the same time, and a secondary power supply booster for my gravicrystals."

"Gravicrystals…" Sigma mouthed. "Seems like an odd name." Kazok paused for a moment, silently wondering why his leader would be sitting on a bench that forced him to place one leg atop the other's knee and lean back against the wall…that is, until he followed Sigma's gaze to the door it stared at endlessly.

"The six of us are growing more confident in our abilities…tomorrow we're going to head out for a strike mission. Nothing too fancy, just in and out. Just to see if we can do it."

"And you'll minimize your interactions with the Maverick Hunters as a side effect." Sigma continued. "Not a bad plan." Kazok gave a brief nod…then finally spoke outside of his basic orders.

"So…how long now until you bring her to life?"

"Three minutes." Sigma replied, his voice as aloof as his gaze. No spark of anger for even the minor break from the militaristic sense, no tensing of his muscles. Not even the hint of annoyance in his voice. Occupied by something else than the concept of the upcoming conflict, Sigma was lost in his own thoughts…and barely aware of anything outside of it.

"I'd best leave you alone then." Kazok muttered, wandering off of his own accord. 

Down the hallway, he turned to Dash Blade, the only other Maverick General still awake this late at night. In what was a very un-Maverick act, she had ordered the smaller replicator to brew her a cup of lemon tea. She sipped at it gently, lifting her eyes up over the ceramic mug's rim as she looked to Kazok's noisy approach.

"So now what is our fearless leader doing?" Dash asked quietly, setting the mug down. Kazok stared at the drink for a moment, then shrugged and walked over to the replicator and ordered a mug of hot cocoa for himself.

As it quickly fazed into existence, the liquid suspension heated to the precise temperature, he looked back over his shoulder towards her.

"As far as I can tell, he's bringing another into our midst." The feraloid's ears went straight up, and she rubbed at her all too pinkish catlike nose.

"Really…" She mouthed. She took another sip of tea as Kazok sat down at the table with her. "Any particular reason?"

"When I talked to it about him two days ago, he could list only one thing…Torture." Dash Blade's jade green eyes went diamond hard.

"What the devil sort of reason is that?"

"Hey, I'm just the chief underling here, I wouldn't have the answer." Kazok replied mutedly. He took a sip of his own hot cocoa, a thousand different questions echoing through his mind…most dealing with the fact that if he was a Maverick, should all these idiosyncrasies that seemed embedded in him exist at all? After all, he was a warrior who was supposed to be bloodthirsty, and here he sat, having a hot drink for a late night snack with an ally who…

He shook his head, pushing all the questions aside. Later, he would deal with them. Not tonight.

"We'll just have to wait and see." Dash Blade stared back at him.

"We wait?"

"We wait." Kazok assured her with an even tone.

And at last, it was time.

Moving with painstaking slowness, Sigma entered into his abode. The pale illumination of the overhead flatscreen monitor bathed the room in a dim green light…a green light echoed and continued by the bubbling chemical mess that the still immobile and inactivated Iris slept in.

"Time to arise, Iris." Sigma said noiselessly. His trembling fingers danced down to the keypad aside her capsule, and reached for the drain switch.

A part of Sigma was worried…his hands had killed hundreds of times, had ordered the deaths of hundreds more...never had they trembled as much as they did at this moment.

The self-illuminated green liquid slowly drained out from a port at the base of the capsule, leaving the interior clean…no patches or droplets remained, all siphoned away. Sigma pressed another switch and lowered the capsule so it lay flat, instead of standing at a vertical angle.

Another switch gently slid apart the clear viewing window…exposing Iris to the open world at last.

She wore no armor…her brown hair was bedraggled by its liquid bath, and her body, from the ankles to her neck and to her wrists, was covered in a skintight black suit.

And with his trembling hand, Sigma at last punched the final switch.

Slowly, Iris's systems began to come online. No readout was fed to the room's monitor overhead…none was needed.

The only visible signs of her activation into the living world…her second activation…Was that of a slow and steady breathing that gently raised and lowered her smallish, yet nymphlike chest. 

Her hands at her sides slowly began to twitch as they were activated. 

And at last, her lips parted to reveal the barest hint of the recesses of her mouth…and her eyelids slid back to let her blue eyes see the world for the first time.

"Iris…" Sigma said softly. "Iris…are you awake?" 

The reploid who looked like, and who had been programmed to act like Iris blinked a few times before unsteadily testing her voice.

"I…I am…" Her arms grew more sure of themselves, and she lifted herself partway from the capsule.

Sigma was down on one knee beside it, his gaunt frame still towering over her as she sat up.

Her questioning, innocent blue eyes stared up into his own dark blood red optics with the jagged scars slashed across them.

"I am Iris…" She blinked, a look of confusion clearly evident. "Wha…" 

"I will explain all in time, my dear." Sigma said as calmly as he could, offering her a hand. Still not quite aware of where she was or why…but with a naïve sense of the world that Sigma had left intact from the mind of the original, she gingerly reached her own smallish hand towards his own massive mitt with its deadly artifices.

He could have had her lay her hand flat against his, and he still could have touched finger to finger if he'd clenched his hand into a fist.

Unsteadily, Iris emerged from the capsule, her mind slowly taking everything in…learning it all for the first time.

And as one might have predicted…she stumbled and tripped upon contact with the ground, unused to standing or walking.

But Sigma was there to catch her…to hold her steady as her blinking eyes raced to discover the problem.

"Wha…what happened??" She asked with what little vocabulary she had. 

Despite himself, Sigma smiled.

"You aren't used to being on your feet, Iris…don't worry, you'll get better over time."

Iris looked up into his face, more naïve than ever before.

"You promise?" She asked in a quivering voice that sought comfort. Sigma's smile curled up at one corner of his mouth, almost to the point of a sneer…

"I promise." 


	12. The Bell Tolls For Sorrow

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER TEN: THE BELL TOLLS FOR SORROW

"Oh, yum." Doan mumbled as he looked at the selection for breakfast. "Slop, burned toast, or sausages more shriveled than Emilius Cristoph's dick. And he's dead." Sighing in defeat, he put his tray back with the others and went back to the line, lifting his hand up for the robotic, non-sentient server. "I'll pass on the entrée. How about a cup of coffee that'd make a pony piss for miles?"

_"That order does not compute." _Came the grating reply. Doan had to roll his eyes for a moment. God damn these stupid robotic servers that the Hunters had hired. Why didn't they just have some reploids come by and do the job…then Doan remembered why. Reploids couldn't take the abuse that some of the more verbose Hunters would offer in protest.

"Coffee. Black. Jumbo." Doan stated flatly for the benefit of the droid's low intelligence level.

_"As you wish." _Came the instant reply, moments before Doan was handed a one gallon sized thermal mug, capped off and billowing steam from the hot liquid within.

"Hey watch it there with that!" Came the guffaw from behind. Doan registered the voice as that of Jad, the joking jester of Bastion's Trio. 

"He'd have to. I just wonder if he'll drink it all or not…" Mused Kol.

"Do you two ever shut up…" Doan growled under his breath.

"No, they don't." Came a third voice. Gavin. The second in command of Bastion's Unit stepped beside Doan and lifted his hand. "Waiter, I'll have the same as him."

_"Order up." _The robot replied humorlessly, passing over another giant sized mug of coffee. Jad and Kol promptly shut up as their third group member gave them both a wary stare. _I'm drinking the same thing,_ Gavin's stare implied. _Care to make fun of me?_

"Aah, we'll go sit over there." Kol finally muttered in defeat. 

Gavin and Doan trotted over to a vacant circular table in the cafeteria, the windows by their position thankfully darkened to negate the blasted early morning effects of sunlight. 

"They're weird." Doan said flatly, taking a large sip of his coffee. Gavin smirked a bit before staring at Doan, completely unaware of his long and bloody past, knowing only that he was a Hunter who had come in shortly after the Fifth Uprising. 

"And you, Doan, are morose." The silvery armored Hunter didn't look up across the table to Gavin, he merely took another giant sip of his own drink and let the conversation die. Let Gavin talk all he wanted…Doan wasn't in the state of mind to put up with it. Come to think of it, he almost never was in any other mood aside from subdued, cold and morose. So Gavin was correct in that respect.

Doan stared down into the depths of his coffee cup…Watching its reflective surface stare straight back at him, with its concentric rings of slight waves traveling outwards from the center. If Gavin kept speaking, Doan didn't know…he was too engrossed in his own thoughts, brought forth by the lulling illusion of the coffee shifting inside the cup.

The world in a coffee cup…all of them little more than droplets.

_"You God-Damn reploids." _Doan felt the long-time memory wash over him, of the bigoted human who had spoken that back during the early period of his life. 

Some things had changed since then. Some things hadn't. The anti-reploid prejudice still existed, just no longer in polite society. In a way, it resembled the South after the Civil War. There was no slavery, but blacks were still treated like slaves. Unlike their human predecessors however, the reploids had both the means and motivation to defend themselves against hostile forces.

And Doan had seen it all…from the reploid's earliest days to where they stood now. And he had no doubt, that like some sort of aging guardian, he would still be around years from now, still watching.

"Doan??" Gavin said again, his voice slightly concerned. "Hey, buddy, you awake??" Doan blinked twice in reply before sipping some more of his coffee.

"Just thinking." Doan offered emotionlessly. With great effort, he lifted the massive jug of coffee up and swigged it all in one massive gulp. Slamming the container back onto the cafeteria table, he stood up and blinked a few more times.

_"You God-Damn reploids."_

Sigma was the greatest reason that reploids were both scorned and feared. It wasn't easy to get along with a group of overtly powerful individuals who almost put your species beyond usefulness when one of their own was scampering about, slaughtering your own kind for the great cause of reploid freedom. Humans. Part of their views, Doan could see. Others, he couldn't.

In any case, he was done here. There was more to be done yet today, including a briefing with Cleo on his Flight Armor's progress.

"I'll be seeing you around." Doan said flatly to Gavin.

He left on that note, walking out of the cafeteria and towards wherever the Hell he felt like going.

Gavin shook his head back and forth quietly before taking another sip of his coffee.

"He blows in, and he blows out…and wherever he goes, he leaves behind the chill of black wind."

Gavin was also completely clueless about the accuracy of his statement. He didn't know that before he was a Hunter, he was a rogue killer of Mavericks known only as the Ghost Wind.

But then, that really didn't matter much anymore.

Sigma had spent all of the night before with Iris, answering her questions, helping her to learn how to walk, to stand and such.

Now in the next day, she was sitting at the conference table with all of the other Mavericks.

Kazok Gravor was looking at Sigma for the most part, but he occasionally snuck a glance Iris's way.

The others were about the room, some like Dash Blade calmly sitting down, others like Dolph Reach and Shell Butane either too jumpy or too large to sit down in the chairs designed primarily for humanoid class sentients. 

"We're going to be attempting our first mission in two hours." Kazok Gravor said calmly, staring at Sigma with all the emotionless power he could muster. "It'll be a test run…nothing more, nothing less."

"Yes, I recall you telling me about this last night before I brought Iris into the world." Sigma said with his raspy basso voice, blinking once and turning to look at Iris.

For all she had learned in the past hours, she was still somewhat dazed and confused…aloof from her surroundings.

"Why are we Mavericks??" She asked suddenly.

The question had the unforseen effect of causing every jaw in the room to drop…as all the Mavericks began to wonder it as well, like a seed that had dropped into the crack of concrete and now began to grow.

Sigma knew that this question would come…

And he knew that telling Iris the truth…That he, the greatest Maverick, was Maverick because a damnable Virus created by a madman in the final days of his life had been transferred from the demon Zero to himself during a climactic battle countless years ago…That all their struggling might have begun with a noble purpose, but had long since slipped away into just endless fighting, because it was what he lived for…would not be wise.

"Reploids have been in existence on this planet since the first one was created in the final months of 2117." Sigma said quietly, pulling on a plausible, yet incorrect linking of events for Iris's questioning mind. It was a half-truth, and half-truths often worked the best.

"Iris, we're all reploids. And humans hate us…humans despise us. They torture us, they attack us, they kill us. If we act in self-defense, they kill us for resisting.

What is a Maverick, you ask my dear?? I am a Maverick. They are Mavericks. Mavericks act so that our kind, reploid kind might be freed from humanity's tyrannical rule. We have been treated as slaves for far too long, and now we seek equality. And yet there are those of our kind who act against us…brainwashed by the humans, they seek our deaths so that the humans will remain in their position of power. They are called Maverick Hunters."

"How horrible…" Iris whispered, her eyes growing wide. Sigma nodded.

"The boat we sail on is unsteady, and always weak to the possibility of destruction. But we fight on. We serve a noble purpose, and we won't be stopped. Not by the humans, not by our traitorous brothers and sisters, and not by time. The Mavericks will prevail…our race shall see its day in the sun!!" Sigma held his fist aloft, shouting the last part with a cry of victory.

At that, all of the Mavericks in the room hurled their own hands up in a similar gesture, roaring in approval. Iris blinked a few times, enthralled and amazed by Sigma's will…his noble purpose…never once even thinking that he might be lying through his teeth.

Sigma was grinning from ear to ear as he turned to Kazok.

"I assumed your upgrade hunt was successful??"

"Enough for now." Kazok said with a similar grin. "We've picked our target, it's all set up. We just need your signal and we're off." Sigma folded his burly arms, still grinning with intensity that set his eyes aflame.

"Go, Kazok. Our destiny awaits us." 

The six Maverick Generals took a long look at each other, all grinning ear to ear.

Part of that came from the influence of the Virus…the realization of death approaching. But another part came from Sigma's speech…

They could truly believe they were working for a better goal. Like Iris did.

And it was all lies…

Cain had taken the time, considering his circumstances, to write out a will…

He handed the tape to Hazil as the doctor gave him another checkup. Another checkup that was completely useless…the aneurysm had only gotten worse, and no amount of drugs was helping the endless pain. It even prevented sleep now.

"I'm dying, Hazil." Cain said wearily. The medical reploid didn't have the heart anymore to refute that statement, he merely accepted the tape with a raised eyebrow.

"What's this??"

"My will." James Cain said raggedly. "My time is fast drawing to a close, Hazil. That piece of data says that all my finances go to the Maverick Hunters. I'll be damned if I let the GDC tear this organization and Cain Labs to pieces."

Cain Labs was the 'Research and Development' department of the Maverick Hunters. Connected, yet separate. Cain was Commander of the Maverick Hunters by respect only. It was at Cain Labs that his true power lay…although the last official documentation he'd released from that department was a statement that led to the Fourth Maverick Uprising, and the utter destruction of the Repliforce. The once proud reploid-only army run by the GDC was now little more than piecemeal, what ragged sections of it that still existed nothing more than candy for the sixty second news shots proclaiming the 'glorious age of human/reploid peace.' And all because of a sinister plot engineered by Sigma himself…one that wrongly cast blame on the Repliforce.

Yes, it hadn't been as good as the Maverick Hunters at preventing Maverick disturbances. There was a reason for that…the Repliforce was run by the GDC, an organization fast becoming corrupt, more concerned with arguing in closed sessions than seeing that peace came to the planet.

Cain didn't know who the true enemy was anymore…

Perhaps that was why he was so tired, so worn out. He had spent the last 13 years of his life in the most harrowing job on the planet. Dealing not only with the menace of Sigma, his disowned son who was now the bitter enemy of all the Maverick Hunters, but the Global Defense Council and its stupid bureaucratic webs.

Hazil had been with Cain since the beginning. His face showed the creases of the years, the torment, the strain…

And when Cain died, would the world mourn?? Hardly. In that respect, Hazil actually had a reason to be as bitter as he always was.

"I'd offer you more drugs, but I've got you so doped out already that anymore might well set that timebomb off." Hazil said quietly. Cain put a hand on Hazil's shoulder, his face in pain, but also smiling.

"Hazil, you've been with the Maverick Hunters since its founding. You've done so much for all of us. I could ask no more of you."

"I could ask a lot more of myself." Hazil grumbled, pulling Cain's hand off. "I'm a Goddamn DOCTOR…I make a living out of saving lives. And I can't even save yours." Hazil looked Cain in the eyes. "I'll be straight with ya, doc. You're one of the few humans I give an actual damn about. I don't want to lose you."

"Hazil, I was old when the Maverick Hunters were formed. I'm much older now. Even if you could save me from this aneurysm, it would be a wasted effort. Humans die, Hazil. We're not like reploids…We grow sick from disease, we grow weak from lack of food or water, we have a short lifespan. You, on the other hand, barring major injury or a fluke in your circuits, are destined to live for years…" 

"What good is a long life if we can't enjoy it??" Hazil queried back sadly. "I really don't want to get into this discussion, so I'm gonna curb it for now. I've done as much as I can for you."

"I never asked for anything more than that, friend." Cain said, echoing his earlier statement. He clutched onto his cane and headed back towards the door. "Just promise me that whatever happens, you'll make the choice that's right for YOU."

"Huh??" Hazil muttered, lifting an eyebrow and folding his arms. "Whutcha talkin' 'bout, doc??" Cain paused, then turned over his shoulder with an easygoing smile.

"Don't base your decisions on your loyalties. You're your own person. Live without that stupid compulsion to stick around here just because you always have."

"What kind of…Cain, are you in your right mind?" Hazil said worriedly. Cain nodded his head slowly.

"I am…Perhaps now, more than ever, everything seems to be locking into place." Cain shook his head. "I've had a long life, Hazil. I've had happy moments, I've had sad moments. I have my memories. Your life is far from over. Whatever comes your way, do what's right for yourself. Be true to your own dreams, your own goals. Only then, I believe, you'll truly live."

"And I haven't been alive so far??" The Medical Reploid said sardonically. Cain put a hand to his head, bracing himself against the pain.

"I'm saying you haven't been at peace. When was the last time you were happy??"

"When I did that pet project for Cossack's bunch." Hazil answered quickly, shaking his head. "Few times before that, never after."

"Hazil, there are others out there in the world who are capable of being doctors, of saving lives. You were happy when you WEREN'T with the Maverick Hunters, when you didn't have death staring you in the face almost every day. Cherish that…find it again."

"What about the others…Zero, and X, and…"

"Hazil, you've learned nothing…" Cain sighed. "They can all take care of themselves. They've managed before. They'll manage now. I just want you to be HAPPY."

Cain shook his head for another moment, walking out of the Medical Bay and into the circular hallways of the MHHQ. 

And once more, Hazil was alone. Clicking his tongue, the sour-faced reploid turned back to his medical reports, the untold piles of them. 

"Cain…I don't think you knew what you were saying just then." He whispered to himself.

But why then did it make Hazil feel so hollow??

.

Cossack was still bedridden…And he was only getting worse.

The elderly Sergei had asked his daughter to stop giving him the pain medication, despite the adverse effects that arose from its missing presence.

And so here he lay, his breathing slow and wheezy, his blurry but sharp with the presence of his mind…

And Kalinka and his robots at his bedside. Kalinka was predictably misty eyed…Pharaoh Man looked on with dull jealousy. SHE could cry, she could express her emotions…

"Father…Father…" She cried out sadly. Cossack lay still, save for his head and the gray hair atop of it. If the sickness hadn't hit him, he would have still been full of vivacity…

But his weakened immune system and an overpowering influenza virus changed everything.

"Kalinka…my daughter…" Sergei rasped. He looked up at her, his eyes sad and watery. "You weep for me…but I weep for you."

"Why??" Kalinka asked tearily. 

"You have spent your life in this Citadel…you never married, you never had children…and now you're so old that your body has become barren. All because of me…I'm such a fool…" Kalinka extended her own graying hand towards his, shaking her head.

"There are times I am sad for that as well." She said. "But I do not regret my choice. You are the most important figure in my life, father. Now more than ever."

"Kalinka…" Her father replied wearily. "If only things had been different." 

At long last, he turned his head in another direction…towards Pharaoh Man.

"Phare…"

"Yes, doctor?" Pharaoh Man replied, lilting his head to peer down at his creator.

He had seen Sergei in his prime…and he had lived beyond it, now to his death…

And he would still be alive…A mere pseudo-human with a cursed existence.

"You…must not become a recluse because of my passing. The years have given you and your brothers so much…and now I see glimmers of intelligence I never could have dreamed possible. What Mega Man had by fluke, you now begin to gain by countless ages of experience, and your interactions with X and his friends. Grow, Pharaoh. GROW. You can do so much for this world…and for yourself." 

"You're talking about the Foregone Five…" Pharaoh Man muttered quietly. There was more than a hint of sadness in his voice, but there was little else. No quivering, no tears, no cracked voice or shattered reasoning processes. "It was our decision…To turn ourselves into something more than what we were. To finally emerge into the world and work against the dangers that would threaten it."

"And every time I think of what you have accomplished, what you have yet to accomplish, my heart sings." Cossack sighs. "You are all my children…you and your brothers, Pharaoh Man, and you, my only daughter Kalinka…I want only what is best for you. My life is over, I have done what I could, and my stories are finished. Yours are yet to begin." Even through the pain, his voice remained steady…he had a purpose, and he needed to complete it.

"I…I'm afraid for you, doctor." Pharaoh Man said sadly. "When you're here, you're with us. We can take care of you, you're with family…you're someplace comfortable."

"And when I die, it shall be the same." Sergei said quietly, his eyes beginning to doze shut, his breaths growing slower. "I shall go to a family I have missed for many years…With Tom Light, with his sons Blues and Mega, his daughter Roll, and all the rest of their group that died countless years ago. And when your time comes…I shall be waiting for you as well. We all will…"

"Father!!" Kalinka cried out, crouching down and giving him a hug.

With strength that seemed impossible for his weakened state, Cossack shrugged her off.

"Do not fret for me, Kalinka…Death is only temporary." He sighed for a long moment, then turned to Pharaoh Man. "My son…Take care of our family…"

"Doctor…" Pharaoh Man began, his emotion levels rising dangerously high. Sergei's eyes were watery now, and through his pain, he found the strength to smile.

"Phare, I mean it…and I'll be waiting for you…When your time comes…"

"Master…" Pharaoh Man stuttered, a surprising hiccough in his voice, and his optics suddenly beginning to blur.

"I love you…always." The smile closed itself, his lips drawing shut, yet retaining the look of peaceful contentment.

The robotologist Sergei Cossack took one final breath, and then exhaled it, his eyelids drooping shut…

And he never breathed again. 

Kalinka choked a few times on her tears before she buried her head into his chest, letting all the grief and sadness she had stored within her at last seek an exit.

Pharaoh Man stood there stricken, his jaw open, his eyes blurrier yet…With a trembling hand, he reached up and brushed at his eyes.

_Tears._ He looked at the clear fluid on his gloved fingers through the dull ache inside of him…_I'm crying…Tears…_

And then it all finally hit home.

Pharaoh Man had at last seen every emotion he thought he could have never experienced. Rage. Determination. Fear. Surprise. And now…grief…

"Father…" Pharaoh Man began, noting with robotic accuracy through his grief that his voice synthesizer had built up resistance because of the overwhelming emotional strain, and now warbled. But even father didn't seem right…

"Dad…" The robot croaked. His body began to shake…His tears grew worse. And if that soft choking noise his voice synthesizer was putting out was sobs…

Pharaoh Man collapsed against the wall and lowered his head between his knees, lost in his own world of sorrow as for the first time in his more than 45 years of life…

He at last realized the ultimate boundary between a mere robot…and something far more.

In the death of Sergei Cossack came the true birth of Pharaoh Man…

_I love you…always._

And then Pharaoh's cries joined with Kalinka's.

All in that room grieved for the loss.

The death knell had tolled on the final 'doctor' of the age of Mega Man.

Cain found his way back to the MHHQ's 'War Room' with the same ease he had for 13 previous years. A few faces turned up to look at him, Mega Man X most noticeably, but also a few other faces he'd become used to seeing more recently since the Fifth Uprising. Bastion was there also.

Cain had seen many Maverick Hunters in his life. Some he would never see again. But that was his lot in life. To see friends and associates perish. 

Things were quieter than usual, for a change…Which gave his aching head a much needed break. X gave his long-time ally, and 'father' as it were a big wave.

"Come on, Cain! We saved you the command chair!!" 

"Oh, goody." The leader of the Maverick Hunters mused drily, hobbling towards it with all the speed his old body could muster. The faces turned away from Cain, and back to their work. Save for X, who looked after Cain only as he could.

Cain sighed as he leaned back into the padded seat, his hands resting lightly on the control pads on the armrests.

"Anything new, troops?" He asked to everyone in the room.

"It's all quiet for a change, doc." X said cheerily, giving Cain a pat on the shoulder. "No Maverick disturbances reported…Sigma or otherwise. The world seems to be doing fine for itself for a change."

Cain nodded slowly.

"All right then." He looked at X, a warm smile coming to his face. "X, these sort of days are the ones I live for."

"That's good to know, doc. How are you doing?"

"As good as I'm going to get, X." Cain said, a wry grin on his face.

"Hey, hey now." Bastion chided from his far corner as he ran over the latest training status reports. "Let's not get into that, doc. You're alive, and that's what's important."

"So it is, so it is…" Cain mused, an edge of sadness sinking into his voice.

So many things he wanted to tell them all…things covered in his will, of course, but…

_X is a different matter._ Cain looked about the room for a moment, then motioned to the door.

"X, could you go ask Hazil if he's got some of my spinach artichoke dip stashed away in his minifridge?" 

"Aaw, doc, that'll take forever!" X protested lightly.

"Please, X?" Cain asked again, his eyes wide and his grin obvious. X sighed.

"Yeah, I suppose so." The Blue Bomber of 21XX finally left his side, wandering off to points unknown in search of the fabled snack food of the reploid race's creator.

Cain sighed for a moment longer, then turned back to the flatscreen at his chair.

_Now, more than ever I must do this. For myself, and for him._

Cain brought up his E-Mail program and deliberately typed in the address…then began on the painstaking message, exact in its nature and message, yet wild in its form.

And ten minutes later, he finished it…and punched 'SEND'.

X arrived back only seconds later, spinach artichoke dip in hand along with a platter of crackers.

"No, Hazil didn't have any…I made the cafeteria's replicators spout up a batch for ya." Cain grimaced slightly.

"Replicated dip…Oh, well, it's the effort that counts." He accepted the foodstuffs from X and smiled at the prototype. "Thank you, X."

"You're welcome." X said calmly. "Just stick around a bit longer, all right?"

"X, the day I die will be the day fate has decided I can do no more." Cain said reassuringly. "I am still alive."

_But if that day does come…I have made all preparations…_

Cain's smile faded away as he chewed on his food, once more lost in the sea of thoughts that he could barely keep focused through his pain.

_When I leave…I leave matters in your hands…_

X…

Zero…

It is the two of you who must lead the Hunters after I am gone. But I know you can…

I know it now.

The guard at the 27th AmeriCanadian Armory Depot was more than bored, she was downright aloof. Things were quiet, out here on the fringe environment of Montana's open landscape. Even in 2131, it remained vastly unpopulated, having kept its ranching mystique. Which made for a boring job, no question about it.

"Unbelievable." She muttered, glancing down at her nametag (A piece of plastic melded against a paper printout with a photo ID and the name 'Ervy') which lay discarded beside her magpistol firearm. It had never been fired outside the practice range, something that left her aggravated.

Oh, sure, there were countless others who would LOVE having this fringe job…just living out in the middle of nowhere, based at an armory where countless 'Mechs and transport envoys, along with their various small arms weaponry were based. 

Ervy turned back to the electronic screens, tapping on them for a moment in aggravation. She'd been created as another one of the Alliance's all purpose reploids, whose attributes were developed on their own, and who were then shuffled off into active duty, bookkeeping, tactics, or wherever they shone. Ervy was highly skilled as a warrior…if she had not been born into the contract with the AmeriCanadian Alliance that forced her to work for them for another 3 years, she'd already be with the Maverick Hunters. She despised the Mavericks, for what they did that gave all reploids their image of suspicion.

And somehow, the bureaucracy of it all had decided that such a firebrand as herself, with blazing red armor and short white hair she did not keep hidden by a helmet was best suited not for the frontlines, where she could put her close range combat abilities, which bordered on 'feral' according to the initial reports, but rather as a security guard. Thus, why she was here and not ending the life of some miserable ruffian somewhere else.

Her hand instinctively dropped down to the metallic cylinder with its flip switch and rounded pommel. Her beam saber, basic enough in design and used all too frequently these days. She had actually made the adjustments to it herself…changing the blade's tint from the pathetic pink to a deep blood red. 

"Erzy, the security guard." She muttered. "Just feckin' perfect." 

About the only struggle she saw in her position was the never-ending battle with the countless piles of paperwork, filed in triplicate in accordance with the mucked up way that the Alliance ran its military and government. And the occasional slugout with some of the males on this base because of their ignoble habit of coming onto her and mispronouncing her name 'Easy', reploid only of course. There were also humans on this base who pulled the same crap…but she couldn't dispose of their interests as forcefully as her own race's. Firm shouts and nos, and her ability to run and file harassment reports.

So things had been worse. But they were far from perfect. "And things are boring." She said, glancing away from the various closed circuit camera monitors.

That was, at least until things got interesting.

A strangely shaped projectile explosive made its presence known by a loud snap and roar of its miniature engine. Erzy's head swiveled about in surprise as she found herself gazing out to the road that led towards civilization some countless miles away. There was a group of figures on that road…none of whom looked to be part of the military. 

And one of them stood in front of all the rest, a strange beetle-like creature with what appeared to be a highly advanced explosives launcher clutched in his hands.

And the projectile was inbound…FAST.

"Oh, SHIT!!!" Erzy stammered, dashing out the back door…but not before clasping a hand around her maglev pistol as she threw herself free.

The explosive shot broke through the transparisteel window and caused the lightly designed guardhouse structure to explode in a mess of cement, metal, and processed materials. Erzy winced against the shards of what had been her 'office' threw themselves against her. Thankfully, the armor did a fantastic job of allowing nothing but minor scratches to develop on her exposed neck.

Stunned, Erzy clambered to a low crouching position and hid behind the remains of the guardhouse. Another shot came echoing by, destroying the main gate to the armory.

"My God…" She whispered, her eyes going wide at the sight. The things approaching at a somewhat lackluster pace were far from human, and thus were reploids. 

"MAVERICKS…" 

Burst Scarab lowered the exterior bazooka and snorted.

"Well, that solves the problem of how to get in." He turned to Kazok. "Still, you sure it was the right thing to do just blowing our way in?" Kazok offered the narrowest of smiles, more like a curling sneer of victory as he brushed back his short hair.

"Oh, trust me, it was." He motioned forward and they all charged towards the gates. Using his comm system, Kazok continued to talk to all of them. "This is a weapons depot for the AmeriCanadian Alliance. Being this far out, they don't have much in the way of security or defense. We'll be in and out within minutes…long before any Maverick Hunters can show up."

"I get it." Dash Blade hissed excitedly. "Maximum shock value, and we get some goodies to boot."

"Like raiding the candy store." Kazok affirmed, grinning at the metaphor from his ally. He turned to Cumulus Bull. "Hey stormy, could you give us some cover fire?"

The massive bull Maverick snorted hot air from his snout and voiced an affirmative, a slight halo charging about his horns as they focused energy. 

That energy was beamed high up into the air, and the wispy clouds above. Shrinking into an electrical disturbance, it unbalanced the charges…In a manner that Cumulus Bull could control where the inevitable lightning bolts from the heavens above would go by his whims.

Cumulus Bull opted to fry what little of the main gate Burst Scarab hadn't already neutralized.

Kazok stared around him as they charged on, a sense of pride flowing through him. They were all his Mavericks…this was his team.

Cumulus ran, and Dolph Reach used a rather bizarre utilization of dash thrusters and hopping. Shell Butane had tucked himself away into his protective barrier, and was rolling along the ground like some sort of wheel. Strangely enough, it allowed him a great deal of speed. Burst Scarab was of course, in the air, using the wings he'd been given to push himself along. After their initial test runs, the Maverick had improved the RPM rate of his wing motors, upping his speed substantially. 

Dash Blade ran like the cat she had been designed as, her claws sheathed as her pawlike hands slammed time and time again against the roadways. And Kazok Gravor himself was using his gravicrystals, pushing himself forward by relying on the crystal's ability of suspension.

"Oh, this is so going to work…" He chuckled darkly. Shifting his right arm into a Buster, he pointed it at the Armory. "CHAARGE!!"

_Well, Erzy girl, you always wanted to show those damned Mavericks what you thought of them…And now's your friggin' chance!!_

"Get up…" She hissed to herself, the angered part of her mind seeking to force her unwilling and frightened body into action.

_Those damned position finders…Said I'd be a better security guard…LIKE HELL!!_

She accessed her comm, tapping into the emergency frequency.

"This is Erzy at guardpost 01!!" She said firmly. "We have hostiles inbound, looks to be Mavericks. I repeat, we have MAVERICKS INBOUND."

_"Erzy, this is control. You pulling one over on us??" _Came the joking reply of the operator on call…what was the stupid ass's name, Floyd??

"GODDAMNIT, TURN YOUR CAMERAS ON THE MAIN GATE!!" The voice on the other end of the line sighed.

_"Erzy, this is so gonna cost you in…" _The voice stopped in midsentence.

"What do you see…" Erzy hissed. 

_"Ma…Mav…"_

"Mavericks, you dumb shit. Now sound the alarm, grab your gun and HAUL ASS. We're being attacked, and do you know what we do when we're attacked??"

_"Oh My God…"_

"WE FIGHT BACK!!" Erzy screamed, clicking her comm off. She could crush one of those Maverick's skulls in right now, she was so angry…

And they were approaching. She was in no way armed to deal with the sucker that was flying in the air with an insectlike droning sound, and that big rolling thing and the bull and the dolphin like dude, forget it…All she had was a measly magpistol and her red beam saber. No, she would best be left to narrow the odds by ONE Maverick, and leave the rest of this defunct base to handle the remaining threat. Sure, there were robotic sentries along with the regular troops on base that they'd send out…but were the rest of the Alliance's 'rent-a-cops' really ready for this sort of overwhelming challenge??

Erzy didn't have the heart to believe so. So her options for attack were left to the other two...

The human-class reploid like herself, who was hovering in the air with a strange array of diamond black gems arranged about him, and that feraloid who was making long strides…

She drew her magpistol to bear and squeezed off three shots…her target had been picked.

Dash Blade wasn't expecting any sort of limited attack…if anything, she, like the rest of the Mavericks was on the lookout for some sort of big anti-aircraft cannon swerved groundwards to obliterate them in one sweep. 

But when those three depleted slugs, their velocity dramatically increased by the electromagnetic forces of the magpistol, burrowed their way into her left arm, shoulder, and sliced a chunk off of her ear, she definitely found another threat…

Rearing back with an loud yowl of pain, she brought her other arm to bear and snapped out her plasma claws, feeling their seething power come to life. 

"DAMNIT!!" She hissed. Kazok was on his guard now as well, but his concern lay in the feraloid.

"Dash, you all right?" Kazok demanded worriedly. The feraloid's eyes were glaring murder as she stared across the horizon of the base.

"I'll be fine…" She said through clenched teeth…That had been MAGPISTOL rounds she'd been hit with. Not nearly as bad as a plasma cannon, but those damned slugs hurt…and they remained after the shot, unlike the supercharged gas. Her left arm mobility had been partially degraded, and her shoulder was aching…

Whoever had fired had been good. Really good.

"I SEE 'EM!" Burst Scarab called over the comm from above. He launched an explosive in the air behind him, causing the flare to explode over the position of the attack.

Wincing from the bright light, Erzy finally stumbled into plain view. Kazok's eyes went dark.

"A security guard…Burst, you missed her."

"Sorry, boss." The beetle Maverick mumbled ashamedly. "Want me to take care of her now?"

"NO." Dash Blade snapped tersely. The other voices on the comm went silent. "She's mine…" Dash said through her gritted teeth, a gentle wheezing now in place.

"But your wounds…"

"Minor. But I'm not going to let that little BITCH get away with having the opening shot." The Feraloid snapped. "Besides, we don't have time for this one…You all go on ahead and finish the mission. This is my vendetta now."

"But…" Dolph began. 

"Quiet, Dolph." Kazok interrupted firmly, staring back at his comrade who was now more enraged that wounded. The wind picked up, brushing his short hair away from his face. "If Dash says she'll take care of it, she will. And she's right. There's a mission to finish up here."

"Right, boss." Dolph replied mutedly. Kazok shut off his comm as the four other Mavericks charged on ahead, then turned to Dash Blade.

"Are you absolutely sure you can handle this?" He asked quietly. The female feraloid stared him back in the face, baring her fangs.

"Trust me on this, Kazok. I'm not going to let some Hunter wannabe get the best of me." Kazok hesitated for a while longer, wanting to say more, but something holding him back.

In the end, he opted for silence. He shrugged his shoulders and flew on ahead, opening up his comm channel so that all the Mavericks could hear.

"Give 'er Hell, Blade. Give 'er Hell."

Erzy watched in despair as four of the Mavericks kept on charging through, giving her the barest of glances of scorn before plowing ahead. The one with the crystals surrounding his floating body flew by as well, too fast for her to track with the magpistol.

But the feraloid didn't run. Erzy watched with anticipation and fear and rage all the same as her opponent took slow deliberate steps.

Their eyes met when they stood at ten meters apart. The feraloid raised her angry right hand, a blistering triad of plasma claws prominent across the paw.

"You'll pay for that, you drone." The Maverick growled. Erzy stared back with all the ice she could muster, then threw her magpistol aside…it would be of no use here now.

With an exacting tempo, her hand crawled down to her hip and brought the silvery cylinder forth. Her thumb triggered the switch, and its blood red blade snapped forth. It stood out straight and true, even curved and shaped to resemble more of a training sword than a real one. But its power was no less deadly, and that was what she needed.

"You Mavericks just don't quit, do you?" Erzy said, baring her teeth. "And you never learn…no matter what you do, you'll always lose."

"Always could be tomorrow, or it could be years from now." Dash Blade echoed back, baring her teeth and snapping her left hand's plasma claws on. She moved her body to a low crouch, like a tiger who circled its prey before leaping in. "Who's to say when that loss will occur?"

"My superiors never thought I was good enough to be a frontline warrior…Stuck me back here with guard duty at Club Fed. I never thought I'd get my chance to eviscerate one of your bastard coalition…" Erzy's face twisted up into a smirk. "Fate has an odd way of shining sun out its ass. I'll enjoy ripping you apart, you whore."

And that final retort was all that Dash Blade needed to whip into an enraged frenzy…

The fight between the two females who sought to prove themselves began.

And the assault on the Armory continued.

The resistance inside the armory was weak…some of the reploid troops had Busters, but for the most part the resistance put up was only found in magpistols and magrifles…Nothing too serious, especially for a group of all too capable Mavericks.

The adjoining hallway was filled with crossfire, the Mavericks ducking behind the stockily built information desk as the oncoming Alliance suppression forces made their march from the interior.

"Aah, no good…Dolph, gimme a hand!" Kazok grumbled. The dolphin Maverick chittered amusedly from his long toothy snout.

"I'll give you a pair, boss." The Maverick slapped his hands together, an aura of energy slowly activating around them. 

Four feet in front of them, on the opposite side of the mag-round riddled information desk, a pair of large blue energy hands appeared out of nowhere, focused energy contained by highly advanced electromagnetic fields that could make the hands solid as stone or narrowed enough so that matter could pass through…only to be disintegrated by what was inside of the field.

"What the devil!!" Came a surprised voice on the other side. Kazok harrumphed.

"Figures. Humans. They send humans to face us. Go solid, Dolph and knock 'em out of the way. You might as well save power for later."

"Righto then." Dolph said quickly, holding his hands out flat and pushing them forward in a sudden jerk. The energy hands under his control flew straight ahead, slamming into the attacking bunch and knocking them senseless, crunching them against the wall.

Dolph lifted his head up over the desk's edge and stared at the room…most of the humans who had gone against them were now crumpled against the wall, grasping at their chest. He motioned to the others.

"It's safe…think I cracked a whole lotta ribs."

"Perfect." Shell Butane muttered, picking himself up. He was the only one of the five who wasn't able to crouch behind the oversized desk…of course, considering his bulk, it would have been impossible. 

A Magpistol round echoed off of Shell Butane's armored backside, bringing their attention to a barely standing trooper in the middle of the room. Unlike the others, his breathing was ragged but steady…and the torn skin by his wounds showed all too clearly that the brown haired individual wasn't human, but reploid.

"Slag 'im." Kazok ordered quickly. Burst Scarab wasted no time in firing off a round, which careened towards their last foe and exploded in a shower of plasmic fire. The subsequent explosion from his Microfusion Tank broiled a good area of the room, and the Mavericks scrambled back under cover as a much larger explosion than Scarab had planned for washed overhead.

They stood back up a few seconds later, all disgruntled.

"Shit, I wasn't trying to make him go BOOM!" Burst muttered disgustedly.

"THEN WHY THE **FECK** DID YOU LAUNCH A MISSILE AT HIM?!!" Kazok demanded.

Silence was their only reply, aside from the unending klaxon wails and the flickering red lights in the hallways. 

Kazok sighed, then reached a hand down and picked up the reploid's charred magpistol…the hand thankfully, hadn't come along with it.

The sight of all this destruction was a little unsettling at first…but Kazok hardened himself to it. As Mavericks, they had a job to do. Wartime willies couldn't be allowed to stand in the way.

"Well, does anyone know where to go next?" Apparently, none of them did, and stood around scratching their heads for a few seconds. Dolph reach was the most humorous example, as with his normal hands he rubbed his snout…and his plasmic hands imitated the gesture four feet above his head. Kazok rolled his eyes at Dolph, who finally caught on and shut off his weapons system.

"Uhh…What does 'You Are Here' mean??" Cumulus Bull said with a little confusion in his voice. Kazok turned to his comrade.

"Say what?" Cumulus Bull held up a piece of plastic from other shattered shards in the rubble of the explosion. Sure enough, there was a little red dot stuck onto it with an arrow and the words 'You Are Here' marked clearly. 

Kazok slapped himself in the face.

"That's a part of a MAP, stormy." Cumulus Bull thought on it for a moment, then set it back down in place and stared thoughtfully at the whole mess, which did indeed form a route map of the entire armory complex.

He turned and pointed down the hallway.

"We go that way, make the first left, and then hang a right." Kazok clapped his hands together.

"That's lovely to know. God, these bureaucrats are dumb, leaving maps of their entire facilities like it was some sorta Goddamn Mall… Now let's get going before anything ELSE happens." The Mavericks voiced an affirmative, and the wild pack of five charged on.

The battle between Erzy of the Alliance and Dash Blade, the Maverick who had once been Felicity Prowl of URFAWP, was fierce and unpredictable.

Every swipe of her blood-red saber that Erzy offered was quickly blocked by one of Dash's saber claws, and each time, the Maverick extended her other fist out, threatening to gash Erzy's armor into useless scraps.

Every charge Dash Blade made towards her opponent with claws raised and ready to defend or attack was blunted by sheer will, the deadly beam saber in her opponent's hand, or a swift kick to the ribs. Neither one was willing to give in, neither was making headway. For all purposes, a stalemate…

Until something snapped within Dash's mind. Her eyes flickered with their bright intensity, and she offered a snarl that bared her sharpened teeth to her opponent.

Erzy drew her blade in closer and snarled back, sharpening her stance.

Dash Blade made another full powered dash at her foe, but as she drew nearer, her plasma claws shut off.

The sudden change in circumstances caught Erzy off guard, and caused her to back up a step…

Dash Blade made a frontwards somersault towards her opponent, another unpredictable move. Confused, Erzy readied her beam saber and waited.

Suddenly, a new pair of claws shot out from Dash's right hand, swinging down towards Erzy. Reacting instinctively, the female humanoid class reploid brought her beam saber up to bear to deflect the swipe…

But the impact was different. It wasn't plasma field against plasma field, it was a stronger resistance that slowed Erzy's swing.

Just enough that Dash Blade was able to finish her flip and plant both soles of her feet solidly against her opponent's chest armor.

It would have been a simple enough kick, had the Maverick feraloid not added in the powerful blast of flames from her dash thrusters at maximum power. That overpowering force was all that was needed to send the determined, but inexperienced Erzy sprawling backwards into the ground with two charred and smoking sections of melted armor now pronounced where Dash's feet had been.

"YOU ARE WEAAAAK!!!!" Dash screamed as she dropped back to the ground from her thrustoff and hurled herself towards her foe.

Erzy looked through pained glassy eyes, watching in horror and abject fear as her Maverick enemy came closer and closer…

Everything seemed to happen so fast after that, both thrusting their dangerous daggers of plasma towards one another.

A pair of shouts…And it was all over.

Erzy's grip on her beam saber went weak…her thumb went off of the trigger and the red hued blade died away, extinguished and never again to be used by her hands…Failing to do more than shudder and echo out pained gasping pants, her eyes began to blur out of focus. But she had partially succeeded…a large gaping hole formed by her blade had been bored clean through Dash Blade's lower stomach, missing the Microfusion Tank but still an all too painful wound…

Her own damage was more…

"Fool…" Dash Blade hissed, her free hand now clutching at the wound that passed clean through her armor and body alike. "You thought you had what it took to stand up against Mavericks…" Dash Blade twisted her plasma claws about inside of Erzy's abdomen, prompting a pained ear shattering yawp and a shudder before Erzy went still again.

"You would have been better off just not getting in our way at all…" Dash continued, her voice now growing ragged by the damage sustained. She retracted her plasma claws and snapped out her TitaniTefloAlloy ones again, skewering Erzy clean through and lifting her limp and broken body off of the ground. 

Dash raised Erzy until the two were staring into each other's eyes, the corners of Erzy's mouth quivering as her body realized it couldn't deal with all the damage…and began an auto shutdown sequence that denied her even the benefits of stasis.

"And now…YOU…ARE…"

Erzy's flickering watery optics went dull and her entire body slipped into death just before a wounded, but still alive Dash Blade finished her sentence. "GONE."

**Severe damage to lower chest. Seek immediate repair. Auto-stasis imminent in…**

"Message off." Dash said wearily. It chirped in reply, and then was no more. She retracted her plasma deflective claws, letting the now empty shell of Erzy, the outpost's lone security guard collapse to the ground like so much disposed garbage.

That final wound had proven to be too much for her…

Weakly, Dash Blade began to stumble towards the interior of the fence about the Armory.

Her own optics now began to glaze over, as power was conserved and transferred to the areas of core importance. Her mobility began to go next shortly afterwards, allowing her only the most sluggish of dragging that nearly caused her to collapse.

Countless beams of warp signatures shot out from the building some distance off…and then Dash was aware of only a big blur, which was the building…

And a smaller blur, coming away from the building and towards her at maximum speed.

**Secondary systems now offline.**

Dash Blade collapsed to the ground, a victim to her own body's self-defense measures.

Her hearing was sluggish as well…it was a male voice, a worried one that was shouting at her, but it came through like she was underwater.

"W…Wooo…nnnn…" Dash said with the final reserves of extra power.

**Auto-stasis in one second.**

Dash Blade went limp in Kazok's arms.

"DASH!!!" He screamed at her. He shook her. "DAAASH!!!" But no response…

Still, she was breathing…

Kazok blinked his eyes shut against his anguished tears.

She was alive, at least…

He stared up at the sky, holding her motionless body close to him. His gravicrystals responded, drawing in and latching to their feeding power nodes about his belt.

And then he too, was gone…The Maverick's first great strike after more than 2 weeks was done, and was a success…save for one injury Kazok could not forgive himself for.

Cain stared up at the report in disbelief…And it hadn't come straight from the GDC like it should…but from a global news corporation who had eyes almost everywhere.

_"Just twenty minutes ago, the 27th AmeriCanadian Alliance Armory Depot, based in the open spaces of Montana was attacked by what is being described as 'Mavericks'. There were six of them, according to the reports filing in, a humanoid class, a large turtle of sorts, a dolphin-like reploid, a bull, and a beetle…The sixth Maverick never entered the Depot, seeing fit to do battle with a lone reploid security guard on the outside perimeter…"_

"Oh my God…" Cain wheezed, his heart beginning to speed up. SIX…not eight, and not widespread across some vast area, each controlling their own little section…

But six, all sent at once, acting at once, with no warning and no mercy…

"Sigma's gotten a new bee in his bonnet…" X hissed angrily. Cain's forehead began to throb painfully, and he put a hand up to it as he spoke up again.

"He's got a new tactic…this is completely new…"

_"…They finished whatever their purpose was and left…our sources indicate they made off with several various 'Mechs of different classes, as well as some Landchasers and "other small arms weaponry and ammunition." It looks to be a hit and run mission, something that the Mavericks, who are presumed at the moment to be working for Sigma who made his reappearance almost three weeks ago in his broadcast that stunned the world…"_

"Shut it off!" X demanded. The transmission operator at the station responded immediately, flipping the screen to its usual MHHQ insignia.

Cain slumped back in his chair, his head's pounding now growing worse and worse as it all dawned on him once more.

_He still keeps coming…No matter what we do to him, Sigma keeps coming…_

My creation…

My…Son…

The reploids…their faults, the things I didn't understand about Light's schematics…

Grief washed over Cain anew as he once more dug up the never-ending argument inside his head…

That because of him, all this had happened…That because of his rush, because of his desireto make others like X…

_My fault…All my fault…_

The world had more people, and yes it had its good moments…

But were those brief moments of joy worth all the ruined lives, all the anguish and pain this planet now trembled from…

It was his own guilt, his own poisonous self-inflicted grief and torture that did James Cain in…

His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and his head collapsed forward into his lap.

And that was the first indication anyone got that something was amiss with their benevolent leader. 

X was at his side immediately…

"Cain!" X said quickly, shaking the doctor's shoulder. No response…

"CAIN!!" X called again. Everyone in the room was silent now, looking at the Commander of the 17th, and the overall Commander with apprehension and silent dread.

X finally looked up to no one in particular, his eyes hollow, his voice subdued.

"He's…dead…"

And the room was silent for many seconds after that.

Because no one could believe it.


	13. Jigsaw World

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER ELEVEN: JIGSAW WORLD

**__**

"Doctor James Cain died yesterday, on June 17th, 2131. A skilled archaeologist and minor robotologist, Cain is credited for the birth of the reploid race after his discovery of Mega Man X in the early April days of 2117. Up until his death, he was a participating member in the managerial makeup of the Maverick Hunters, based in New Tokyo, Japan, and also as the namesake for Cain Labs, a subsidiary of the Maverick Hunters. A fervent speaker for the continued advancement for reploids' civil rights and liberties, he served as one of the reploids' few upstanding human allies in the continual debate. Killed by an inoperable aneurysm buried in his brain that exploded upon hearing the news of the newest Maverick action, the greatest voice for the race of reploids has now been silenced. The world notes this loss with sadness and distinction. Today now lies in pieces, and there seems to be no one left to arrange them back together…"

-Obituary published in The New York Times, June 18th, 2131.

The funeral had been one that was overcast and melancholy. Rain clouds, intent on even further deepening the anguish felt by all at the cremation and ash scattering of the late Doctor James Cain drizzled at a slow and monotonous pace.

The eulogy was delivered by a quiet and utterly shattered Mega Man X. Cain, having produced no children by his wife, who died far too early in their union, was without a voice. The Blue Bomber of 21XX felt it was his place to give it. The eulogy had been a proper one, mentioning Cain's achievements and life goals, as well as listing out his will. Cain had left the Maverick Hunters all his financial assets in his will, and seeing as there was no tax to money passed on to nonprofit organizations(Which, assuredly, the Maverick Hunters were), his sum was left intact.

What X hadn't found a voice to speak about was…where exactly did the Hunters go from there?? The Maverick Hunters still stayed functional, with all of Cain's riches now lining their expense accounts. Cain had never been a millionare…the untold amounts sent to him because of the continued production of reploids, to which he held full and unassailable patent rights to, had always gone to where his work did. The Hunters.

But where did they go? They were down their strongest voice, their most undaunted leader. The one who had stood tall since the Hunter's founding, who had never backed down, and had always stuck his neck on the line for the people who worked and lived inside this building. It was a deep loss.

One made all the worse as the Maverick Hunters reached the conclusion that Sigma was once more making another set of moves. That was perhaps their largest saving grace. It was easy to push aside their own grief and sorrows as they focused on a much larger problem.

"This newest attack is like nothing Sigma's ever tried before." Bastion murmured, looking down at the compiled data on his padd. All the Unit Commanders of the Maverick Hunters were gathered in the large conference room just down the hall from the War Room, peering over all the information that the AmeriCanadian Alliance was willing to fork over, as well as records from previous Maverick attacks. "I mean, Sheeze…" He scratched at his messy mop of double layered brown hair and set it down on the table. "SIX Mavericks. Not eight. No big plot to take over an area, neutralize all resistance and set up camp. Just a very localized attack on one backwater base who carried 'Mechs, Landchasers, and small arms weaponry."

The thunder crackled outside the conference room's window again, illuminating the drizzly sky once more for all to see. All of Tokyo seemed to weep at their loss.

"Sigma's basic pattern is your so-called big plot." X replied tonelessly. "He used it in the First Uprising, his troops used it in the Second, he used it again in the Third and Fifth…"

"But he hasn't always tried it like that." Zero snapped, his eyes glaring. Unlike the others, Zero didn't get upset and weepy. He got pissed. "Remember the Shadow Hunters of 2122, and the Erasure Incident of 2128? Those were different, all right. Not to mention "Sigma's Sixth", for another."

"I try to forget the Shadow Hunters." X replied, his eyebrows low. "Sending my consciousness into the MHHQ's computer network to fight off that threat wasn't exactly reassuring."

"Aah, you did fine." Zero replied. "But the truth is, Sigma's only relied on his massive strike about half the time. This newest one is just another element of unpredictability."

"But even the Erasure and Shadow Hunter Incidents had a grain of Sigma's evil to them." Another Commander by the name of…What was it, X tried to remember…Yentl, Bentl?? Aah, it wasn't any use…just another nameless face that'd die some day against Sigma. "What kind of plot is he spinning this time around? I mean, it was a simple hit and run…It might not even be Sigma…"

"Trust me, it's Sigma." Zero growled lowly. Unlike the others, he didn't sit down at the table, content or driven to lean up against the wall with his right knee sticking out and his arms folded. He looked around the room with his bright green eyes, eyes that every Commander had learned to respect and fear. "Sometimes, knowledge goes beyond the mere physical. With him, I can almost feel it." He poked himself in the chest for emphasis. "I can feel it right here when he's got something cooking."

"A Sixth sense, as it were?" Another Commander by the name of Drazen asked, lifting his wolfish eyebrow up. "Or just Hunter's intuition?"

"A little of both, combined with more than 10 years of experience putting up with his bullshit." Zero muttered in reply, staring up at the ceiling. "Now isn't the time to go soft, gentlemen. Cain wouldn't want that in the least. This is only the beginning of Sigma's next series of machinations. I can't tell you where it'll go next from here. All I know is that this is a mere taste of things to come."

"It only took six of them to completely overrun that base." X said quietly. He lifted his face up and stared about the table, his blue/green eyes wide with a little fear and a lot of wisdom. "Odds are that Zero's right…and that the demonstration in Montana was little more than a warmup."

"So what should we do then?" Bastion demanded. "None of my troops are particularly gung-ho about sitting around and waiting for another attack to come. They want to do something."

"Until they show up again, we can do NOTHING." Zero fumed. His hand subconsciously went up behind his head and grasped onto the hilt of his saber, almost like he was preparing to draw out the highly specialized beam saber and make ribbons of something. "I know how much inaction can jar on your nerves. But we can't make a move until they do."

"Checkmate, as it were?" Drazen queried with an upraised eyebrow.

"Negative." X replied with a low growl. "Only check."

"And our queen is dead." Zero said softly.

The room was silent for a few moments.

Then the meeting went on. Just like life did. 

Life for the Maverick Hunters went on after Cain. As best as it possibly could.

It took Dash Blade a few moments to drag herself out of stasis. Her body felt like Hell, her eyes were clamped shut, and every nerve pathway felt like it had been pushed through a grinder.

"Whu…where…"

"We're back at our base, Dash." Came Kazok's voice. The feraloid yawned for a moment, then did a self-diagnostic.

"It looks like I didn't die after all." She mumbled, baring a row of teeth. Kazok's eyes were dull.

"No, and I thank the Great Electron for that."

"The Great Electron…??"

"Back during the late 20th Century, there was a human comedian known as George Carlin…the Great Electron was one of his jokes about humanity's God." Kazok ruffled his hair and sighed. "I don't know WHY I thought of that just now, but I did." He looked at Dash's still motionless form, save for her eyes. "We got you back in critical condition. If it weren't for Sigma, you'd be dead."

"Well, that's certainly nice to know." Dash chirped, picking herself back up to her feet and shaking her head. "Aah, that was not a nice fight. I can't believe I left myself open like tha…" She gasped in pain and doubled over, almost collapsing to the floor.

Kazok's sturdy hands clutched tightly around her midsection.

"Christ, don't do that…" He said raggedly. "You're still recuperating." Dash growled angrily, not wanting to be this helpless, but have little other choice.

"Don't treat me like some sort of doddering invalid, all right?? Sympathy makes me sick…"

"I'm not." Kazok mumbled. "I'm just not going to have you going off and running yourself into a worse scenario than what you're staring at now. Being bullheaded about this isn't going to help the team." Dash finally stopped her struggling and resignedly went back to the medical cot, sitting on it but refusing to lie down.

"There…there were a bunch of blurs that warped out of the Armory as I started trudging towards it." Dash stated, holding a hand over the section of her stomach that had been impaled clean through by the beam saber. "And then there was a blur that was coming towards me…" She turned her eyes up to look into Kazok's face with a slightly befuddled stare. "Was…Was that you?"

Kazok folded his arms against his chest and gave one very slow nod of his head.

"I don't leave teammates behind." He stared at her for a moment longer, then turned about, his voice more subdued. "I just don't…I may be Maverick, but I'm not a ruthless sonofabitch about everything."

"But if there was more forces at the base, you could have been putting YOUR life in danger…"

"I would have done it anyhow." Kazok said quietly. "It doesn't matter what gets thrown my way…I'd always come running for you."

The statement hung heavy in the air between them for seconds before Kazok finally turned, a puzzled look on his face and a slight reddening in his cheeks of synthskin.

"Ehh…" He began unsteadily. "Perhaps…I should go see how Sigma and the others are doing." Dash's own gaze was a little aloof as she tried to process what he'd said.

"Yeah…maybe you should." Kazok gave another nod of his head, then walked out of the smaller Medical Bay in the Maverick base constructed by URFAWP's unwitting slaves.

And Kazok and Dash had both been those slaves.

"Sheeze." Dash sighed in exasperation, collapsing to the cot and finally laying back down. Her hand went to the now repaired saber wound. "I can't believe I left myself open like that." Stupid, stupid…

She would improve. She and Kazok were like the ultimate training duo, they'd make her improve…

But now her concern was not their missions yet to come.

It was why her whole body seemed to tremble whenever he drew near.

Allegro sat at the large computer setup in Horn's island mansion, silently tapping on keys and moving the cursor about, clicking and selecting as he went.

He had been here now for six hours, Horn realized. The long-lived reploid walked out of the kitchen, another one of his 'Jamaican Jenny' mixed drinks in hand and brushed back his graying hair before speaking up.

"You've been pretty busy here." The founder of the late URFAWP spoke up quietly. "What's the project??"

"Investigation." Allegro said back a few seconds later, never tearing his eyes from the screen. His fingers paused over the keys and his shoulders drooped a little bit. "Saddening investigation."

"Oh, how so??" Horn asked quizzically, taking a sip of his drink.

"I've been figuring out who the new Mavericks are." Horn choked on the mixed liquor and fruit juice in his mouth, but managed to stop himself from spitting it up. Composing himself, he set the drink down on a formica tabletop by his La-Z-Boy and turned back to the screen.

"Oh? Who are they??"

"They're all ex-URFAWP, doc. They WERE our friends." Horn stood there a moment longer, then reached for his drink and downed it all in one gulp.

"My God." He finally said, shaking his head. "One thing after another…First Cain dies, and now this…" The reploid engineer glared daggers at the screen. "Now I know why everyone in the Maverick Hunters hates Sigma with such a passion…I want to flatten the bastard myself." Horn set his hand on the top of Allegro's chair. "Who??" He whispered, hardly believing he was asking this.

Allegro's eyes were cold as he brought up six dossiers from old URFAWP records, accompanied by freeze frame snapshots of the attack on the 27th Armory in Montana from the day before.

A picture of an oversized reploid resembling a bull popped on the screen. "Taurus." Allegro chirped drily.

"Gods, not him…" Horn gaped.

"Then there are the three I remember…I mentioned them before, and they're all here." Allegro continued, bringing up all three dossiers at once. A feraloid, a beetle type, and a dolphin type. "Felicity Prowl, Pyre Vance, and Jestream…Sigma got 'em all, boss. The son of a bitch got 'em all."

"Two more…" Horn whispered, not wanting to know who else, but knowing he had to. Allegro's hand went slower now as he went to select the final dossiers.

An oversized turtle class reploid with a cumbersome shell popped into view. "Snaps Torte."

"And…"

Allegro's cursor on the oversized monitor selected the final dossier. A head of short black hair, a wry smile, and a thumbs up from a human class reploid…

"Oh, GOD, please no…" Horn shuddered.

"Kazok. Section leader of the 8th recovery team." Allegro finished. Horn stumbled backwards, then collapsed onto the floor. 

Horn just sat there for a long time, staring down at the floor. Finally, his younger associate swiveled his chair around and stared at his associate.

"I know it hurts." Allegro said quietly. "God knows I understand the pain. You feel betrayed, used, defeated…" He shook his head. "There's nothing we can do for them now, you understand?? They've crossed over, they've gone Maverick…there's no coming back." He stood up from his seat and walked over next to Horn, offering his hand. "Come on."

"It's my fault…"

"LIKE HELL!!" Allegro exploded, jerking Julius Kinnian to his feet. Glaring angrily at the sunglass wearing reploid, Allegro shook his head vigorously. "It isn't your fault! Your idea was a good one, it was an idea we NEEDED. Sigma screws up everything. He's messed with our lives, with their lives, with countless thousands more. He's a sick and twisted maniac, Doc!! If URFAWP hadn't been there, he would have found someone else to infiltrate." Allegro sighed. "God…Compared to you, my technical expertise is on a second grade level, and I STILL understand this better than you…"

"Wisdom comes in many forms." Horn said hollowly. He trudged over to the computer's chair and sat down, then looked up at the screen. 

"You know what we have to do." Allegro whispered. "As much as we want to save them, we can't…we can only make sure that they don't ruin any more lives."

"I know it's the right thing." Horn replied resignedly. "But why is it that the right thing feels so wrong??"

He opened up a new E-Mail and addressed it to the MHHQ, to Zero.

**Subject: From Fantasy Island--Update on the Mavs**

"We did all we could, doc." Allegro said quietly as Horn began to type, reassuringly setting his arm on the elderly reploid's shoulder. "In the end, Sigma just proved to be too much for us."

"And another blight befalls the land." The ex-Israeli scientist stated flatly.

And nothing more was said for several hours.

Alaska could be moderately decent during the summer months, and that much hadn't changed in the last 400 or so years. The rivers had gone clean, the trees were in bloom, and the ground was relatively green…as much as it could get up here. Well, more appropriately, down here…

"Steady on, girl." Bristol muttered. She was in the Southern region of Alaska, not quite to the edge that dipped into Canada, but close enough it was temperate. The sun was up high in the sky, and the air was pure.

Even in Anchorage. Her search had brought her this far…

"New Denver to Washington D.C. to New York and now here…" She muttered to herself. It was most definitely a long line she walked to her ultimate goal of finding MI9 and her past, but it had proven fruitful. After all, it was only the 18th of June. 

She spied a netcafe around the street corner…a sort of pseudo-mix of high priced coffee drinks and internet connections. She smiled lightly to herself, then walked towards it. These things had been around longer than reploids had…and there was at least one in every town larger than 3,000 people in size. Back during the early days of the reploid's existence, they'd been considered holy ground for humans, off limits to reploids. However, a lot of that sentiment had faded away. Now, there was that edge of mistrust, but for the most part, the discrimination, the racial hatred was gone.

Tightening her blue overcoat's collar, she moved out of the streets where hovercars rustled by and inside. Light, soft jazz music was playing…Amazingly, not the newer jazz, but the same kind that had been played from the 1930's to the 2040's…

Of course, the 2040's had changed many things in the world. Including music. Still, it was refreshing to hear the old style, and put an even wider smile on her face.

A few of the patrons inside looked up as the old style bell chime tinkled when the door hit it. They looked at Bristol for a moment, and her honest smile, then turned back to their mochas and frozen cappuccinos. They had more important things to be doing than stare at the newcomer all day.

It was something Bristol had noticed while traveling around the world. Each area had its own style of mannerisms, distinct, unalterable, predictable to a degree, yet each its own. Anchorage, and perhaps Alaska as a whole had an air of aloofness about it. Of course, considering that this was a country where the weather was harsh for almost the entire year, she didn't blame them. These people had their own problems, and didn't need, or want to deal with any more. 

_I've made it this far_, she thought quietly. _It wouldn't hurt to do some more research on where the Second Rainbow was up here._ She sat down at an unoccupied booth, and a waiter came by. A reploid waiter, a pleasant enough looking wolf-type.

"How can I help you today?" He asked amiably, holding an order datapadd in hand. Bristol thought for a moment, then shrugged. Caffeine and calories couldn't kill her.

"Double mocha, extra cream." The wolf reploid, whose nametag read 'Clyde' nodded as he punched it in. 

"Care to do any netsurfing while you're here?"

"Yes." Came Bristol's reply. The wolf tapped in another button, and the net terminal at Bristol's booth with its small display and controls came to life.

"The drink will be here soon." Clyde said cheerily. "Total comes to…$3.27."

"All right." Bristol said, pulling out Horn's borrowed ATM card. Clyde set down an ID reader, and Bristol swiped it through, taking a moment afterwards to punch in the verification code.

**Code: Accepted. Thank you for your purchase.**

"All right, that'll be it then." Clyde said, clicking his tongue. "Have a nice day, ma'am." Bristol gave him her smile, then turned down to the computer's controls.

The internet browser was already open, and Bristol directed it towards one of the all-purpose websites with E-Mail, games, news, and a search engine.

The headlines were clear…But one caused Bristol's jaw to drop.

**_James Cain dies from news of Maverick Attack_**

"What the Hell…" 

_THE James Cain…Of the Maverick Hunters, died…_

Yesterday…

Stricken by stunned disbelief, Bristol stared at the rest of the article, and the connected obituary for several minutes…

Totally unaware of anything else in the café before Clyde cleared his throat and brought her back.

"You know, you might want to drink your mocha before it gets cold." He said calmly. Bristol blinked a few times, then stared up at him.

"Did you…hear…about…"

"About Cain?? Doubtless there isn't a person on this planet who hasn't." Clyde sighed for a moment, then looked around the cafeteria. He shrugged. "I can take my break anytime now…mind if I sit down?" 

Barely aware of anything, Bristol nodded her head slowly. Clyde walked over to the counter, announced he was taking a break to the people at the coffee dispensers, then walked back over to Bristol and sat across from her.

"You gonna be all right??" Bristol looked up with her blue eyes and stared into his peering brown ones. 

"Wot?" She croaked, betraying her British accent. Clyde's wolfish snout pouted for a moment as a few creases of concern lined his synth-furred face.

"It's a big surprise, I know…Cain was a cool guy, and now he isn't with us anymore." Bristol shook her head.

"It's…it's more than that…I knew him…"

"You knew Doc Cain??!" Clyde said in surprise. His voice went up a few decibels, causing some heads to turn. Bristol was too out of it to notice the stares directed at them, but Clyde noticed them and hunkered down in embarrassment.

"Yes. I was with the Maverick Hunters for a while."

"You were a Maverick Hunter??" Clyde whispered with reverence. Bristol shook her head.

"No. But I was friends with several." Clyde whistled and shook his head.

"Geez, I thought I'd heard 'em all." He looked back down, the shock gone from his face. "No wonder the news hits you hard…but I'm surprised you haven't heard it sooner. I mean, he died yesterday."

"I've been busy…" Bristol breathed timidly. Clyde shook his head.

"Yeah. We're all just too darn busy these days." Bristol finally took a sip of the mocha and cringed. Clyde's face went shallow. "Something wrong with the drink?"

"The beverage is fine, it's the news I can't stomach." Bristol replied reassuringly. She shut her eyes against the light tracings of tears, then shook her head. "Can I access E-Mail from this?"

"Yup." Clyde said. "At a buck for its use, you'd better hope that a netcafe's setup allows E-Mail." Bristol nodded.

"Thanks, Clyde."

"No, thank you." Clyde replied. "Up around here, we don't see too many pretty faces. You're a breath of fresh air for guys like me."

"I'm off the market, so don't get any ideas." Bristol said. Clyde held his hands palm outwards.

"Wouldn't think of it. Anything else I can get for you?"

"Yeah, some information. I'm looking for the place up here in Alaska where the Second Rainbow was based." Clyde's eyebrows went up.

"What, the post-apocalypse dudes? The ones who saved humanity's ass from the proverbial fire?"

"One and the same."

"Yeah, sure. Their old building's like some sort of museum or monument now. It's about fifteen klicks north of here in the countryside."

"Thanks." Bristol said back with a weak smile. "Now, I must write this E-Mail." Clyde nodded.

"I can take a hint, beautiful. I'll stay out of your hair."

"Thanks." Bristol said. Clyde got up and left, and once more, Bristol was alone.

But she could still reach out…Before, she didn't want to communicate with the MHHQ. Losing Cain changed everything…He'd been a friend to them all, even her…

And she needed someone to talk to.

**To: Commander Bastion, 21st Unit, MHHQ, New Tokyo, Japan**

Subject: From the Field-Your Bristol

"I miss you, Bastion…" Bristol sniffed. "But I know that you must be listening out there. So please…Know I still love you."

She said it quietly, barely even a murmur as she typed away. It took her a few minutes to finish composing it, but she got done eventually. Sending it off, she downed the last of her double mocha, if for no other reason than she didn't want Horn's hard-earned money going to waste. Her tab paid, she stepped outside and headed Northwards…

Just another creature in a world gone mad, but with an intention that might very well save it.

"One of them was hurt yesterday, weren't they?" Iris asked, staring over at Sigma.

The malevolent leader of the Mavericks set his datapadd down and looked up at the resurrected Iris. 

"Yes, one of them was. Dash Blade." 

"Will she be all right?" Iris asked, in all honesty and concern. Sigma chuckled a bit at that…she was so naïve. Of course, he'd chosen to leave her that way. 

"She'll be just fine. A little time recuperating, and she'll be ready to go back to the other five and keep working." 

"That's good to hear." Iris mentioned quietly. Sigma blinked a few times more at Iris, then picked up his datapadd again and set to work tallying the numbers. "So yesterday was a sort of test?"

"Mmhm." Sigma mumbled, barely paying attention. 

_And it had worked in more ways than one…According to all the news flashes echoing around the planet, James Cain at the MHHQ had died…_

"Heh…" Sigma chuckled a bit at that…more than 13 years now he'd been working to get rid of the Maverick Hunters and the puny humans…and the strongest voice for their allegiance against the Mavericks, against him, was dead because of a clot in his brain. Poetic justice, considering it was Cain who had been helping X and Zero drive Sigma insane for all this time. 

It was Cain who had brought Sigma to life. In a way, the leader of the Mavericks was like the doctor's disowned son. But Sigma had long since given up any allegiance or feelings for his creator. It was a piece of good news to hear he was dead.

Now, he needed only to eliminate X and Zero…and the world would be at his mercy.

"Sigma??" Iris bleated again. The Maverick looked up, the red gashes over his optics glinting in the dim light of the URFAWP subterranean base.

"Yes?"

"What you're doing has a righteous goal…"

"Yes, it does."

"And yet, you still get hurt doing it…" Iris lowered her head and shook it. "One of the six got hurt badly out there yesterday."

"It's the price we pay for freedom." Sigma said. "Freedom has always come at a high cost. In blood and bodies and grief. I've been fighting in this war for more than a decade, Iris. But I never give up."

"And neither do they…" Iris said quietly, turning back and staring through the large underground corridor to another section of the base. The Mavericks were crowded around the small cafeteria table, even Shell Butane with his cumbersome bulk. "Yesterday was a test, and they did a good job for the most part, right?"

"They did very well. They need a little more practice, but I have no doubt that by working as a team they can pull it off." Sigma re-emphasized calmly. "Thanks to them, we have some toys we can use on our next mission."

"Yes…" Iris fidgeted a while longer, then walked over beside Sigma and looked at him expectantly. "I've grown to like them since you brought me to life. I don't want to see them hurt."

"What exactly do you plan to do about it, Iris?" Sigma scoffed. "Have me design you some weaponry and body armor and train you to fight with them out there??"

Iris's great glassy eyes were firm as her jaw when she spoke back.

"Yes." Sigma sat there in stony silence for a moment longer, then finally sighed and tilted his seat back. "I'm serious, Sigma. When I'm down here, I just feel so helpless…I want to help out." Sigma lifted himself back upright and looked at her with an appreciative and questioning stare.

"You'd really do this…you'd train, you'd go out there, you'd do what's required, however gruesome and grizzly in order to see our race realize its dream at last??"

"I know I haven't proven myself yet, Sigma, but…" Iris's voice trailed off. "Just give me a chance." She said feebly a few moments later.

The greatest Maverick stood up from his seat and looked down at the far shorter Iris. His eyes and face betrayed nothing as he drew in a slow breath.

"You just did prove yourself…And you'll get your chance." Sigma looked down at his datapadd again. "Tomorrow, I'll begin work on your upgrades. Right now, you have no armaments or enhancements whatsoever. And it's not an easy process, Iris…I'll have to put you into stasis, open your body up, and insert the proper components. If you make this decision, you can't go back to how you are now." He looked down at her. "Are you willing to make that much of a sacrifice??"

Iris saw victory in the water, and she nodded vigorously. Sigma exhaled loudly, then nodded his head.

"Then I shall make it so. Within a few days' time, you shall be one of us. The Maverick freedom fighters."

Iris's face lit up with a bright and exuberant smile at that statement, causing Sigma to grin in reply down at her.

But his grin was also part sneer…

_Everything comes together…Everything comes together as I have foreseen it._

Three hours after the meeting with all of the other Unit Commanders, Mega Man X had gone into Cain's office to clean it up. X found it hard to stare at the room's interior…And in the end, he decided he would leave all the decorations and plaques and oddities of his stand-in father be where they were, and resigned himself to picking up the trash and such. 

Now that Cain was no longer here, the Maverick Hunters were without a true leader. Yes, they would follow people like X and Zero into battle, but even the Unit Commanders had their limits…their time was spent dealing with their people, keeping them in fit shape and prepared for the Mavericks. Not paperwork and the bureaucratic process. Glumly, X realized that as the most senior Commander, it was up to him to see to these duties now. And that meant checking Cain's mail.

With silent reverence, X sat down in Cain's comfy reclining office chair and stared at the monitor. Tapping the return key on the PC's keyboard, he brought it out of the screensaver and into action.

There were the usual E-Mails…Medical Reports that came back with oddities or quirks from Hazil, Unit status reports, which as Cain liked them, didn't shift into numbers, but actually MEANT something, and the always present E-Mail from the press, clamoring for juicy tidbits in the world's most famous(or infamous) peacekeeping corps.

But there was one specific one that X found stood out from the rest. One that came from an unusual source, with an unusual message header.

**From: GDC HQ, Amsterdam**

Message: The Future of the Maverick Hunters

"What kind of crap is this…" X mumbled in awe. He brought the screen's cursor up and selected it…and read.

_To whoever is temporarily assuming James Cain's duties as leader of the Maverick Hunters…_

As you may be aware, the Maverick Hunters are under the control of the Global Defense Council. As you must well know, the GDC saw fit to let the Maverick Hunters off with lax involvement from the GDC's control, seeing as the Maverick Uprisings were dealt with as best as they possibly could be. James Cain was a decent man, and we regret the loss of such a fine global citizen. This brings the message to its purpose.

Under James Cain, the Maverick Hunters were allowed free reign in all concerned matters. Thanks to the death of Cristoph and the subsequent return of Sigma, the directive ordering the Maverick Hunters to downsize has been rescinded. However, now that James Cain is no longer with the living, and no longer seeing to matters as the chief liason between the Maverick Hunters and the Global Defense Council, the situation has been changed. We have no doubts that the newest Maverick threat shall be dealt with as efficiently as always, but the Council feels that its interests in the Hunters now rank higher.

Thus, as of 1300 Hours on June 21th, 2131, a replacement for the late Doctor Cain will be appointed to the position of the Commander of the Maverick Hunters, and will act in a manner that will see that the GDC's requests and directives are executed efficiently. 

However, we are aware of the almost total reploid population of the Maverick Hunters, and realize that sending in another human being to replace Cain will be seen with hostility. So, we have arranged to send one of our reploid officers to undertake the position.

His name is Signas, and he has the most precise CPU ever built. He has an uncanny knack for dealing with situations and finding answers, and should be of great use to all.

Once again, we regret that James Cain is no longer among the living. But now is the time to press on. Signas shall direct you in dealing with the newest Maverick threat upon his arrival. Thank you for your cooperation and years of service.

-Representative Terrance G. Wilmore, Global Defense Council

X lay limp in his chair as he read the news. He wasn't even aware of the second presence in the room, until the fellow prototype lifted his hand up and tapped X on the shoulder.

"This isn't good." Zero uttered darkly. "What kind of bullshit are those bureaucratic bungholes spewing out now…"

"As if things weren't bad enough, now they're going to stick a stupid middleman in control of us all…" X mumbled, shaking his head. "We lost the best damn leader we could ever hope to have, and now the GDC's forcing a trained monkey on us."

"Most precise CPU ever…HA!" Zero echoed, still staring at the screen. "Why can't they just come out and say it. The GDC doesn't trust us a damn bit, and they're sticking a watchdog in the pen to chain us down??!"

"But what can we do??" X sighed in dismay. "If we refuse, then WE'LL be Mavericks. We'll be the Repliforce, and it'll be OUR heads on the table."

The two of them were among the oldest troopers left at MHHQ. Neither one liked seeing this. Neither one could speak with an easy mind or an optimistic mood.

The two found themselves screaming for a refuge, for someone to come and save them from everything that seemed to be going wrong. In sadness, the two of them realized they were screaming for Cain to help them. But he wasn't around any more. 

"I need a drink." Zero finally said coldly. 

"I think I'll join you." Came X's muted voice. "Might as well give Hazil a holler and have him join us. He'll need a gallon of the stiff stuff after we tell him this."

"When do we tell everyone else??" Came Zero's query.

"Tomorrow, after the hangover's done with." Came the reply of the 2nd Blue Bomber. "If the GDC's expecting us to jump hoops for this twit, they're dead wrong. The Maverick Hunters worked well long before they got a bee in their bonnet about controlling us more, and I'm certainly not gonna make anyone in this place bust their ass to please a stool pigeon."

"That's what he is, isn't he??" Zero grumbled. "Without Jiminy Cricket Cain to be our conscience, the GDC wants to stick us on a leash and have some squawker scream and holler about our every move to the big boys."

"I REALLY need that drink, Zero." X said wearily, getting up from the seat and closing Cain's E-Mail program. "Mind talking about something not related with work for a change?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Zero muttered, as the two walked out of Cain's office…the most hallowed ground of the entire MHHQ. "So then we came to the conclusion that perhaps lighting a match over an open gas line wasn't such a hot idea. Well, it was definitely HOT, but it wasn't very bright. Oh, Screwitall, it was bright too…Well, I mean to say it wasn't our…"

The hydraulic doors shut behind them, and the dim blue lights of the room flickered down a few notches to conserve power.

Sigma II swam about in his Armored Armadillo shell goldfish bowl, quietly breathing the constantly aerated water and floating about. 

There were times X and Zero wished they could be as carefree and blind to the world's problems of that single, solitary anchovy. 

But time, fate, and the world had different plans for them.


	14. The Restive Bureaucrats

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE RESTIVE BUREAUCRATS

Geoffrey and Tim were only a pair of warriors in a far grander scheme. They knew this, they agreed with this. However, like any among their circle, knowledge of the world and what was happening in it was a must.

"I don't suppose you heard that freak lover James Cain died?" Tim mentioned unobtrusively, sipping at his hot tea.

Geoffrey nodded as he stared down at the inner workings of his beam staff and realigned the minute components. "Good riddance to 'im, I say."

"It comes as somewhat of a surprise. I thought an old coot like him'd be around for a while longer yet."

"He wouldn't make our job any easier."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Although I doubt anything's going to help the reploids when we're through. Finally, a way to be rid of every last one of them…"

"QUIET." Geoffrey hissed, snapping the metallic plate back over the hole in the cylinder. He pulled it up from the table, double checked its charge level, and ignited the blade, letting its long and menacing length of black tinted plasma glow faintly in the bright light of their room. "Nobody is supposed to talk about The Cleansing, you know that." Tim shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not like anyone around here is going to go spilling the beans. We're all in this." Tim sighed. "Those of us still left."

"Cristoph was a good member, solid. We mourn his loss…but you must know that it was reploids who killed him."

"Mavericks."

"REPLOIDS." Geoffrey bit off tersely. "Good Lord, no wonder they paired you with me. You still have a lot to learn about what we do here."

"Hey, as long as I keep doing things the way I have been, everything turns out all right." Tim replied. "But there was something weird about the explosion at Cristoph's D.C. Apartment."

"What??"

"His PC had a floppy disk inserted in the drive. Our inside man with the police examined it down in the evidence locker, and you'll never believe what it was…or who made it."

"Oh??" Geoffrey said, finally intrigued by Tim's mindless babble. 

"It was a program designed to follow a signal source."

"And who wrote it??"

Tim told him. Geoffrey blinked a few times, then sat back and exhaled.

"My God, my God…" He mumbled in disbelief. "She's still alive?? Have you told our superiors?"

"They told me." Tim said darkly. "Along with the mission profile. It seems you and I have been specially conscripted, my friend." Geoffrey's eyes betrayed no surprise at that.

He knew perfectly well why they were being sent to do this. They had to find her…

Before she made her way back and put a stop to The Cleansing.

"But she didn't escape us alone." Geoffrey said. "That red-haired one, you know, the stereotypical Irish humanoid reploid…"

"Willow." Tim finished. "We don't know if they both survived. Or if they did, if they're working together. We go on this search blind."

"That makes our chances of success minimal." Geoffrey said quietly. Tim gave an easygoing shrug as his associate tucked his beam staff away, the blade extinguished.

"Well, Geoffrey old boy…do we really have a choice to not succeed??"

The answer was, of course, an unequivocal no.

Zero stared up at the chronometer that always ticked with pinpoint accuracy.

_20 June 2131, 1002 Hrs_

He harrumphed for a moment at that, then turned down to the nearest operator, whose job was to keep a lookout all over the world with his highly advanced search program for signs of Maverick activity.

"Hey, we got any blips on our scope?" Zero muttered dourly, with the same force of voice that implied a response--and a quick one at that. The tech looked up and shook his head, then turned back and did more scanning.

Zero harrumphed again. Here at the Maverick Hunters, there were more people working on base than just the ones who went outside the walls and fought off Sigma's hordes. You had the equipment engineers down in the hangar, who provided transportation, 'Mechs and the like, you had your operators, whose job was to sit around in the War Room and keep the world under constant surveillance. You had the Medical Staff--Well, that was just Hazil for the most part, unless the situation was BAD. Then the other reploids trained for medical duties would hop in and give a hand, much to Hazil's muttering and swearing. Of course, you had your janitors, your data analysts and...

"Frackit." Zero grumbled. The list was too long, and he wasn't one to drop into using the sort of brainpower required to dredge them all up. That was X's job. Zero's was to teach the Maverick Hunter newbies how to fight and live, and how to be very good at it. A few caught on, and those with the most promise were dropped into his #00 Unit. Which, strangely enough, was filled with close combat psychos like himself. Those who didn't quite get the picture were assigned to other, lesser Units. It was just how things went. 

What Zero could say with the utmost pride and respect was that there was another Unit fast climbing towards his in respect and prestige. Bastion's Unit, the 21st. It was affectionately nicknamed "The Lightning Strike", after Germany's 'Blitzkrieg' attacks so long ago. Bastion's motto for his team went that they were THE Lightning Strike, because they never strike twice, and never leave anything standing where they do. Part Buster users, part beam saber aficionados, Bastion succeeded in joining the two together into a cohesive whole. And he taught them to work together, to breathe together, to live together, like no other Unit could. Yes, there were better 'solo' Hunters in the organization, but Zero had to admit that as far as an overall Unit went, Bastion's 21st ranked up there.

"There now, that didn't take too much brainpower." Zero grumbled. The nearby tech who he'd bothered a moment before looked up.

"Pardon??"

"I said, GIMME A BEER!" Zero hollered jovially. 

"I think I can do that." Came a gruff and familiar voice. Zero looked over to the grizzled frame of Hazil walking through the door, then caught the can of Heineken that the Medical Reploid threw his way. Hazil looked at Zero with an appreciative stare. "Hey Crimson, I need to talk to you for a sec." Hazil's stare implied a tone of seriousness to him, and although a new recruit might look at Hazil and see nothing but a constant glaze of bitterness, Zero had long since learned over the years that the Medical Reploid from Britain had his moods as well, just that the differences were unbelievably subtle. 

"Righto. Where?"

"Cain's office." Hazil chirped. A few faces turned to gawk at the medical reploid for a moment longer, stunned that he should even dare mention the now holy name of Cain, and even more, threaten to desecrate his abode. Hazil folded his arms and stared right back. "Listen you greens, I miss the guy too. But I spent more than 13 years giving him his shots, his lollipops and his alcohol. I ain't gonna go marching in there and throw paint all over the walls, SO GET BACK TO WORK!!" Hazil's voice escalated into a shrill shriek at the end of his sentence, and every reploid in the room cringed. Even Zero. Abashed, they turned back to their station monitors and did as Hazil commanded. For someone whose war was saving lives on an operating table and not with a Buster or plasma sword, he still carried a very menacing air that nobody wanted to cross.

Zero walked with Hazil through the main exit and then made a sharp left turn to Cain's front door. 

"Door open, clearance Hazil-TwoGeeNiner."

_"Authorization accepted."_ Came the familiar feminine computer generated voice of the actor who played Ginger on the old 20th Century TV show Gilligan's Island. Even with Cain gone, the slight modifications and alterations he'd left behind served as living memory. The door hissed open, and Zero and Cain walked in.

"Good thing you locked that door shut. I'd hate to see this place wrecked." Zero muttered. Hazil nodded.

"I gave you, me, and X access. That's it. I don't even trust Bastion with this much at stake." The room was filled with the familiar dim blue light Cain had insisted his room have, and Sigma II still swam around in his goldfish bowl. Well, this was more or less Sigma II the 14th or something, but Cain never did have the time to rename his goldfish, or the desire to actually remember what they were called. So Sigma II it had been, for countless years. Since before the World Trial of 2124, at least.

Both unable to sit down in Cain's comfy office chair, they resorted to using the less comfortable chairs set out for visitors.

"So what did you need to talk to me about??" Zero asked. Hazil opened his large chest compartment up and pulled out a datapadd. Actually, it wasn't that much larger than any other normal reploid's chest compartment, it was just that Hazil never needed to carry around Heart Tanks or Sub-Tanks with him. 

"This." Hazil said quietly, lightly tossing it to Zero, who caught it without blinking an eye. As Zero perused the contents, Hazil spoke. "I did some research on Signas. He's the GDC's Golden Boy, all right…Their most highly advanced reploid model ever. He's sort of a living data cruncher, if you will, better than you, me, and probably even X at sifting through that shit the data analysts slug out and coming to a sound conclusion."

"Yes, but where's he from?"

"Where are YOU from??" Hazil said drily, staring at Zero. The Crimson Hunter looked up, a foul smirk on his face. Of course, the both of them knew THAT detail. Zero was Wily's bastard child, his final creation, the one who was supposed to destroy Mega Man X, but had long ago(For more than a year now) managed to finally do away with all of that impulse and do what he knew in his heart was the right thing. 

"Let's not go into my questionable lineage." Zero sighed. "I get tired of reliving a past I can't remember, and don't want to. So let's get back to the guy we've all learned to hate, despite the fact we've never met him."

"Well, if you want a look at his picture, it's in there." Hazil motioned. Zero clicked a few notches down, and indeed, there it was.

Signas stood at a fair height, taller than Zero, who was a little taller than X. So he was in the green giant category, almost to where Sigma usually towered. His armor was dually functional in design, resembling a sort of officer's uniform with its grey and black finish, as well as the stocky wheel shoulders. Everything about Signas seemed to scream immense physical power.

"I take it he's strong?" Zero asked with an upraised eyebrow. Hazil shook his head.

"No more powerful than any other reploid, I'm afraid. Remember, this is the GDC we're talking about. Not Mavericks. Mavericks WOULD build strength into larger frames, but this guy works for bureaucrats. The size factor is crucial in one thing only; all the damn negotiating he's done in his career. Intimidation, and the GDC's learned that well."

"And I take it his career in the GDC was uneventful?" Zero asked. Hazil clicked his tongue.

"I dunno if you recall, but we do have an official GDC liason who's supposed to tell us to jump, and how high. The last one retired after the Repliforce incident, which was another one of the organizations he watched out over. I suppose the twat felt guilty for telling us to go kill our friends."

Zero didn't respond to that. For once, he fell silent. No snide remark, no cutting comeback uttered from his lips. And Hazil knew damn well why. Zero HAD killed friends. Like Iris and the Colonel.

"So anyhow, that snotbrain booted himself out, and this Signas guy rolled into the same cooshy position. Of course, WE never heard anything about it. Didn't have to. Cain did a fantastic job of keeping the GDC's grubby little fingers out of our lucky charms, and so we never heard a peep from 'em all. So although Signas's position was General of the Maverick Hunters in the GDC's eyes, Cain saw him as little more than a highly paid drone who wouldn't breathe unless he was told to. I, frankly, abide by Cain's decision on that."

"I think I can follow it from here." Zero sighed, drawing a hand over his face. "With Cain out of the way, the GDC realized its days of being left outside of our front door was gone. Without Cain, without a HUMAN of high standing and prestige to slap their wrists and tell 'em to Feck off, they could push right in. Because we, being mere reploids, can't argue. That would be like going Maverick, at least in their murderous eyes."

"So in other words, my dear Zero, we're going down shit creek. And we go over the waterfall tomorrow at 1 in the Afternoon." Hazil said plainly. "You might want to share Signas's dossier with X and the other Unit Commanders. Knowledge is the only thing we can arm ourselves with now."

"Just great. Just Feckin' great." Zero snapped. "Knowledge, Christ. That's bull." And Hazil knew why Zero was so dour.

This was one enemy he couldn't tear to ribbons. And Zero needed to. So very desperately, he needed the ability to smash aside their problems with all his usual candor and grace.

Then again, Restive Bureaucrats are hardly a Maverick regime. But their influence was just as poisonous.

_"Wycost, you used to be a policeman, right??"_

**"Well, yeah…"**

"Then use some investigative skills for a change." Tia had sighed in exasperation when he'd called her, once more at a dead end. "For all the traveling about and remaining anonymous she does, there's a trail. One that you should be able to follow, considering you LIVED in that town for more than 10 years. I care for you, I really do, but I swear, I'm beginning to get visions of things that frankly are beginning to worry me."

**"Anything I need to know about?"**

"Nothing you won't find out in due course."

**"Christ, you're just like Isaiah…" **Wycost had mumbled. **"You give some of the craziest answers and expect me to go on them."**

"Do I really have to spell this out for you?? What she's looking for is her lost past, and although I don't have much of a clue as to what exactly that past entails, I'm pretty sure she'd go somewhere where there's lots of information on a variety of topics, historical in nature. You told me there was something off about her, correct?"

**"When Hazil gave her her primary checkup when she arrived, there was all too clear evidence that she'd been made for more than paper pushing. Two time Air-Dash Thrusters aren't commonplace, and they're hard to make. Expensive suckers. I only have one time Air-Dash."**

"Well, to use an old phrase Wycost, visit your local library." The enigmatic Chinese woman had said before chuckling a bit and hanging up the phone, supposedly to tuck her children in.

And that of course, was the big winner. Tia Xiang's psychic hotline at work again, and more accurate than those ones on the television who spoke about things like love lives and all that. Wycost was a reploid who needed cold, hard facts. Not bizarre predictions or slightly accurate guesses. And Tia knew them, although at times she stubbornly refused to grant him that. And the Bronx Bomber could understand that. This was his mission, his penance for all the suffering he'd brought in his long life of destruction. Not hers.

So here he was, in the gigantic library. One that Bristol had been in two days before, according to the reference section librarian, who easily forked over the same materials for Wycost that she had borrowed for her brief span of time…as soon as Wycost had shown her his MSWAT badge. It no longer adorned on his leather jacket or chevron chest armor plate, but was tucked away inside his pocket, replaced for him by his thoughtful long-time comrades of New York's civil peacekeepers. He didn't work for them now, and they understood that…he was with the Hunters now, a far more important goal. And he'd long ago passed his two years of manual servitude with them. In a sense, he was a legend, a figurehead. A symbol of undaunted perserverance and protection of the cause. And even in retirement, he carried weight here. Wycost harrumphed. Maybe after all this was over, he'd come back and train the new MSWAT to actually fight and work together, same as Bastion had shown him and the 21st to do.

He stared down the mess of papers and files she'd checked out.

"The Second Rainbow, huh…" Wycost muttered. He had no way of knowing that the Second Rainbow led to MI9, which was what Bristol was actually searching for. For him, he was shining a flashlight in the dark in a stormy blizzard, not looking through the air as much as trying to follow her slightly covered up footprints. And having a rather bad rut of it.

All the information available seemed to indicate that his next destination would be Alaska. So he packed up the files and gently dragged them back to the librarian, who gave a weak smile as the imposing black haired reploid handed them back over the counter and begrudgingly nodded his head.

"Thanks."

"I suppose you found what you were looking for…is that young woman who checked out the materials in any sort of trouble?" The librarian asked weakly. Wycost's mouth curled up into a half smile and he shook his head.

"No, she isn't in any trouble. I've just been asked to keep an eye on her. She's very special to a dear friend of mine."

"Well, she's long gone now, that was four days ago."

"Doesn't matter. I know where she's headed and I can catch up with her." Wycost said easily.

"And just where is that?"

"Someplace very cold and very forgotten." Wycost said with a wink. He turned about and walked out of the facility, heading back towards his old home in New York to say his final goodbyes before he once more vanished to a different locale.

He didn't notice the figure scrunched behind an old paper, hardbound copy of the King James Bible, large and tall as he walked out of that library. But the figure behind it had heard every word, and she slowly set it down on the table and peered after his long gone form.

"So then, the wee lass has gone off to Alaska. I should have known…she's having to start from the very beginning of all this mess." Willow sighed in exasperation and walked to the same reference counter, handing the old book over. Then she too, walked out of the room. But unlike Wycost, she had no last pit stops to make before her departure.

In broad daylight, just in front of the exiting doors to the streets outside, she vanished in a flash of light, leaving a lot of people very surprised and startled.

Willow was once more hot on the trail. And for a change, farther ahead than Wycost. 

She had no doubts that their paths would cross again.

Everything was ready…the blueprints and schematics had been cleared, the operations date had been set, and the necessary materials had been supplied from the bases' stores.

Now came the most difficult part of the operation…

Sigma stood over Iris, lying flat on her back on the cold metal cot of the Medical Facility, her clear wide eyes staring up at him with trust, with determination.

"All the preparations are finished, Iris." Sigma said with cold precision. "But, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?" The female reploid took in a deep breath as nervous anticipation set in again, but her voice was clear.

"I won't just sit back and watch my associates, my friends, be killed off by the Hunters. I will do something about it." And once more, that undeniable grin of Sigma's flashed into life. The same grin he gave to his foes and friends alike, a cold faceless smile with no precise meaning, but a gesture that curdled every Hunter's and human's blood.

"You are indeed strong, Iris. I shall make you stronger." Her timid hand reached up and grasped around his bulky wrist, and her eyes locked with his cold red ones.

"I trust you…Sigma." Her eyes glazed over at that and she dropped into stasis, her eyelids drooping shut and every muscle and servo in her body slowly whining down into quiet.

_She is mine…now and forever more, this nymph known as Iris is MINE. Not Zero's…Ohh my yes, Iris, you don't know how incredibly happy your decision makes me._

Clothed only in her black body suit, Iris lay in helpless stasis, her fate now in Sigma's hands. And despite himself, the coldblooded and heartless leader of the Mavericks chuckled.

Kazok stood nearby, anxiously awaiting a report from Sigma. He'd walked through the door, just after Iris's last sentence. 

"Sir?" He queried slowly, staring down at Iris. "She really decided to go through with it."

"After seeing what you and your team went through, Iris has convinced herself that she can't allow you to face that kind of danger alone." _And she decided it herself…no trace of the Maverick Viruses' influence lies within her…which makes her choice, and the inevitable conflict that more poisonous and gleeful…_

"We're hardly alone, sir." Kazok said stiffly, arching his back. "Dash just overestimated her capabilities a little. We're working on that deficiency with training. But will Iris here be training with us from now on?"

"No, she won't." Sigma said shortly, never once turning around to look at his subordinate. Over his days here, Kazok had become accustomed to Sigma's quirky mannerisms, his subdued and self-absorbed nature, and the roiling sea of conflict within his mind he kept hidden from them all. "I've said it before Kazok, in so many words. Her purpose is not to fight alongside you. She will have her own mission in due course…she shall fight by MY side."

"She'd stand a better chance with us. More targets to aim at, more firepower to rely on." At this, Sigma finally did stiffen up and turn to look at Kazok with incredulous disbelief, hints of rage beginning to show.

"I would hope you aren't questioning my judgement, Kazok…I've killed fellow Mavericks for lesser matters." The black haired and black armored reploid stared straight at Sigma, betraying nothing.

"If that is what you feel is best, I shall abide by your decision." Kazok said stonily. Sigma fumed a bit before shaking his head.

"My decision is final, and it is law. Live with it." Sigma turned back to Iris and spoke with that same air of distanced snobbery. "Now get out of my sight. I have work to do."

Kazok bowed in a gesture Sigma could not see, then turned about and walked out of the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. Cumulus Bull was at his side almost immediately, peering at his leader for answers.

"So? Whaddid he say?"

"Enough." Kazok clipped. "Iris is being converted for combat, but she won't fight alongside us." Cumulus shrugged.

"Just as well. I mean, Sigma IS our boss, and he's been doing this for more years than we have. He knows what he's doing, his choices are sound ones."

Kazok was seriously beginning to doubt that.

"Pleasant." Gavin grumbled, tossing the datapadd down. Jad and Kol looked over to him across the cafeteria table, lifting their eyes from their own datapadds. "This is just not a nice year, is it fellas?" Jad grinned, always the hothead.

"Well, there's plenty of asskicking to be had."

"Keep thinking like that and you're gonna end up slagged some day." Kol chirped in reply. "Play it cool, all right? At least for now."

"YOU play it cool." Jad mumbled. "I'm itching for combat, and my Buster's hot. Sigma just gained another mark on my 'reasons to kill' tally for this stunt."

"So he's taken URFAWP reploids and recruited them for his own sick desires." Gavin muttered in reply. "Wouldn't be the first time he's pulled a stunt like this. Doppler's bunch, the 1st Unit, Repliforce…he has a knack of doing that. If you want a historical reference, Wily also made a habit of swiping other people's robots and corrupting them to his own twisted motives. So you could say this whole evil despot thing is predictable from generation to generation." Although Gavin made that connection, the one he couldn't make was how Wily, was in fact, responsible for Sigma's condition and job status, thanks to the Maverick Virus developed as part and partial to Zero's design. Lack of knowledge, an especially dangerous knowledge to boot.

"Still, it doesn't give you a happy feeling to know you're chasing down reploids who used to be harmless." Kol muttered. "I mean, NOW they're Mavericks, but…"

"A Maverick is a Maverick, PERIOD." Jad asserted grimly. "Doesn't matter who they were before or what they might be. You fry the bastard then and there."

"Oh? And just what about Wycost, eh?" Gavin mentioned drily, looking across the table. "When we got him back from his little stint at URFAWP, HE was Maverick…and yet even though he'd fried Bastion's Powerstorm Armor, wreaked havoc, and basically scared the living crap outta all of us, he still lived."

"That was a stupid decision on the part of our superiors." Jad grumbled, pulling his helmet off and ruffling his short hair. "Stupid decision."

"Perhaps my next one will be to ship you off to the GDC, hmm??" Came a gruff and growly voice. The Trio froze up at the arrival, and Jad suddenly felt a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder. Jad felt his mouth go dry, and he was unable to swallow.

Slowly turning his head around, he found himself staring at a frowning Bastion.

"Just to clarify matters, Jad, some Mavericks aren't true Mavericks. The Repliforce as a whole was wrongly condemned, and in the end, their leader, the General, self-destructed himself to obliterate the Final Weapon and end its countdown. He wasn't Maverick, in the sense he hated humans and acted towards their eventual extinction. And in Wycost's case, he was more valuable alive than dead. He's a Hunter first and foremost, and despite the unforseen infection that resulted in his Maverickism, he snapped out of it without even a trace left and turned around to blunt the attack at Cairo. A Maverick is not just a Maverick, Jad. There's far various levels."

_Not to mention that Wycost is currently on the trail of the woman I love, bound and determined that she'll make it back alive and well, and more secure with her past than when she left._

Jad was visibly paler, and he offered a meek nod. Bastion gave a final shake of his head and started walking off, shaking his head. There were still things left to do before tomorrow crashed down with all the force of an anvil.

He found that Gavin, coolheaded and trustworthy Gavin, the ringleader of the Trio was at his side as he walked along.

"Shouldn't you be with the other two and helping the 21st train some more for this?" Bastion asked in a weary tone of voice.

"We're doing just fine, boss." Gavin said. "You trained us as best you knew how, there's little more to be done at this stage in the game. I'm just sort of stunned that we're having to go up against URFAWP veterans now."

"Sigma likes to play with lives. It's his livelihood." Bastion chirped, knowing that detail all too well, due to his interactions with X and Zero during the Fifth Uprising. Wycost had been there as well. "And although we can't help them now, I had to make the point to Jad. He hates the Mavericks, but he hates them blindly."

Gavin thought on that for a long moment, then harrumphed.

"Guess he does." Gavin shook his head and looked forward as they continued to plod along, no definite destination in mind. "And you're obviously doing better than you were. We were all relieved when you snapped out of that depressive mindset and became The Desert Fire again."

"Natch that, Gav." Bastion corrected firmly. "I'm the Desert Angel." Gavin grinned oddly at that.

"And just how is your woman these days?"

"Out, exploring, without a clue that Wycost's close on her heels. She's fine, and sent word to me 2 days ago. It's a glorious thing to get letters from the field." Bastion replied, an easygoing smile returning to his worried face.

"I might have to give this love thing a try one of these days." Gavin grunted. 

"If you can find someone who won't kill you for eating those peanut butter and jalepeno topped bagels." Bastion said with a wider grin. 

"Yep. You know, if Cain were still around…" Gavin's mouth clamped shut, and their uneasy air of cheerfulness vanished in a puff of smoke.

Cain had died now 3 days ago. And it still hurt them all to think about it.

If anyone could cause Cleo to snap out of a full bore diagnostics trance, it was the usually morose Doan. 

The silvery armored reploid casually walked up behind the vision of beauty as she sat in her chair, her mind focused only on the video footage taken of the 27th Armory's interior during the attack 3 days ago, her right hand up at her chin, her calm eyes narrowed in obvious scrutiny.

That was, until Doan reached his head down and playfully nibbled at her neck.

She yelped in surprise and bolted forward, turning about in shock before it subsided with the recognition of the only person who could ever do that to her and not get his neck broken.

"Sheezus, Doan, don't surprise me like that."

"I thought you liked surprises." Doan mumbled, his mouth in its usual state of emotionless grace, but his eyes twinkling with a light Cleo could clearly mark as contented happiness. Cleo sighed, unable to stay mad or miffed at the morose marauder for very long. She folded her arms up and planted a kiss on the side of his cheek before sitting back down.

"Sorry, you just caught me staring at this."

"What is this?"

"Videotape footage of the URFAWP Mavericks who attacked the 27th Armory 3 days ago." Cleo said. "Highly classified, only the Hunters and the GDC have a hold on this. I'm stuck staring at this and trying to figure out what makes their new weapons tick. Which means that, for the moment at least, my great gray puppy dog, your wings project is on hold. At least at my end." Doan's face fell a little at that, as much as his already dour face was CAPABLE of falling, and he sighed.

"What about THEIR end?" Meaning of course, J.K. Horn and Allegro, out on their hidden island abode. Cleo shrugged.

"They're looking at the designs, but this whole mess has slowed them down as well."

"Yar, the Mavericks have perfect timing for this bull. Right when we lose Cain and have a GDC newbie come marching in." Doan muttered. Cleo sighed.

"Please, don't get too glum on me, pooch." Doan knelt down and kissed her forehead, sighing back.

"All right, Cleo, I'll try not to." The female reploid giggled a bit and nodded.

"Thanks, hun." She froze the image just as the security forces were being swatted aside by two masses of energy, perhaps plasma, that moved as if a sentience was in control. Doan harrumphed.

"That's a trick I'd like." Doan said, pulling off his helmet and ruffling his short hair. "One of the new Maverick's weapons?"

"Apparently, inherent to the one that looks like a Dolphin. Jestream, wasn't it??"

"Yup. So you're saying these energy hands are things that the new Dolphin type Maverick can make?"

"Yes. The others have even stranger powers, but what's incredible about them is that they work TOGETHER. There's no areas of control, no axes of evil. Just a bunch of Maverick Generals running around and kicking ass…and doing a fine job of it."

"Sounds like their new strategy's effective then."

"Devastatingly so." Cleo mentioned, typing a few keys in. "That's as much as I have so far. Would you be a dear and relay the new info through the message chain for me?" Doan took a datapadd from Cleo's desk and checked for the data she had mentioned, then nodded an affirmative. The engineering reploid of the MHHQ's Hangar gave Doan a quick and affectionate kiss, then waved him off. "Don't get lost now!" She called out after him.

Some of the other techs in the Hangar watched him with their usual level of good humor and rumor milling as he walked out. His face betrayed nothing to them.

_As long as your light shines, Cleo, I'll never be lost._

It was early, sometime in the black hours of the 21st of June when Sigma pushed the last vestiges of his surgical gear away and reached a trembling hand down to Iris.

She was changed now, adorned in heavy battle armor constructed of durable tempered metals and a thin coating of TitaniTefloAlloy as an outer shell. She now had Dash Boots, one time Air-Dash functional. Most importantly, she carried a high powered pistol grip magrifle, a pink bladed beam saber, and a pair of yellow beam daggers. 

Iris was now a weapon of war…Sigma's weapon. Shining red and blue, and an ominous black in the dim green light of the room, Iris lay there, totally unaware of the bizarre and unnatural process Sigma had done unto her.

"Awake, my dear." Sigma breathed, typing in the restart command to her Control Chip.

She broke free from stasis, and a few minutes later, finally opened her eyes, her body weak and feeble as it registered the new enhancements and gadgetry that had been pushed into her frail body. Dazedly, she turned her gaze to a blur of colors that she knew within her heart was Sigma.

"Did it work??" She croaked, her voice synthesizer's power feed still weak. Sigma grinned his usual grin.

"Perfectly." Iris managed a weak smile before her body slowed itself down into semi-stasis, not as deep as the one she had been in before, but necessary for her body to grow used to its new functions and abilities, and to recuperate from the downtime.

Sigma's menacing hand-a hand that killed hundreds in its time-gingerly reached up and brushed back a strand of her sheen filled auburn hair. It was a gesture unexpected by Sigma, who pulled back with slight recoil.

"Sleep well tonight, my Iris." He whispered as he walked out of the room to drop into stasis himself for a while. 

"Tomorrow it begins."


	15. Frozen Rage

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: FROZEN RAGE

If there was anything positive that the members of the Maverick Hunter Headquarters could decide right off of the bat about Signas, it was that he was punctual.

At precisely 1:00 and 05 seconds P.M. on June 21st, 2131, Signas exited a public hoverbus outside of the MHHQ in its circular driveway and calmly began to walk towards the front door in earnest. The sunlight streaking down from above glinted off of his metallic uniform, a semi-armor designed to resemble an officer's regalia. However, the dark black shade of it seemed to draw in the light, creating an aura of shadow about him.

Some of the groundskeepers found themselves looking up from their pruning and beautification duties to watch the approaching newcomer with interest. Puzzled, they stared at the tall and imposing reploid before recognition flashed into their eyes, and they realized that at long last the would be 'replacement' for the beloved James Cain had arrived. His eyes were cold and expressionless, his mouth drawn thinly shut, betraying nothing but an air of superiority, aloofness, and a dronish confidence. Not once did he force one of his hands to brush on his legs to eliminate dust, or to see that his 'cap', or the helmet dolefully designed to look like one, was firmly in place. 

Signas marched with an air of cold purpose, one that caused all outside of the great and majestic halls of the hallowed MHHQ to shudder involuntarily before dropping their heads back to their work and doing whatever they could to look busy. They did not want to even contemplate having to talk with the reploid.

The hydraulic doors seemed to respond slower, open louder and with more protest as Signas approached than they'd ever done before. The reploid did not frown at the expensive crystalline panels as they slid open, tempered to withstand light plasma fire. But his gaze did shift to watch them, his unresponsive eyes slowly swiveling from side to side as if frowning at the doors in his own, indifferent way.

A datapadd lay clenched firmly, but not nervously in his right hand as his steady marching gait took him through the front lobby and towards the hallways. But unlike the outer doors, these did not part for him.

All the Hunters, Techs, and data crunchers relaxing in that outer room froze up as Signas' steady gait stopped abruptly. All eyes on him, the professional ice man turned his expressionless face about until he was looking at the nervous and somewhat flustered reploid behind the main desk.

Gayle, the female reploid currently stationed at the main desk swallowed briefly to hide her fear before she reached a trembling hand down and pushed the release button for the sliding doors. Instantly, the doors in front of Signas parted.

"Sorry about that." Gayle mumbled meekly. Signas merely blinked once, perhaps not in recognition as much as an automatic response, before swiveling his gaze back straight ahead. He walked on once more, the cold shadow of his presence lifted from the main lobby. All breathed a little easier in the room…but all were left with goosebumps.

News of his approach spread quickly throughout the facility, and even though all had been prepared for this eventuality, the undeniable truth seemed to strike at them harder than ever.

Signas took a long and roundabout way through the circular corridors of the multilevel MHHQ structure, as if extending the time of everyone's torture so he could draw in more data about the location he would call home in mere minutes.

Wherever he walked, crowds of reploids bustling about at their duties paused and froze, pressing themselves tighter and tighter against the walls, like an oppressive force permeated from his body in all directions, crushing their spirits to mere frightened wisps of themselves.

Some watched him with fear, like Jad and Kol. Others, like Doan, watched with cold interest, showing no fear and allowing no intimidation. There were even those like Hazil, who waited just outside of the War Room's southern set of entry doors who leaned up against the wall and glared at the approaching reploid as if he was a disease, an insect, to be scorned and mistrusted.

And yet Signas held the same response for them all. Cold, unblinking stares that did not direct themselves at the fellow inhabitants of the MHHQ, yet seemed to bore into them all the more powerfully for that.

At long last, the hydraulic doors to the War Room parted, and Signas stepped into his world. 

All transmissions, all voices, all conversations and smiles and laughs ceased as Signas's steady gait once more ceased and he found himself staring about the interior casually with a look of quiet disdain, as if rating a house for a realtor's price listings.

Mega Man X was the first to approach him, Zero a few feet behind. The two of them had been expecting this day to come…with dread. Hazil quietly slipped in behind Signas and moved off to the side of the room, folding his arms and glaring with a bitter stare he reserved for a select few.

"You are Mega Man X, prototype for all reploids and leader of the 17th Maverick Hunter Unit." Signas stated flatly, with a pronounced baritone pitch to his quiet, and somehow mechanical voice.

The Blue Bomber of 21XX gave a brief nod of his head, and Signas continued without missing a beat.

"I am Commander Signas of the GDC's Repliforce Liason committee. By order of the Global Defense Council, I hereby take command of all activities associated with the Maverick Hunters and the Maverick Hunter Headquarters in New Tokyo, effective June 21st, 2131 at 1:01:17 P.M." Moving as if forcing himself to, Signas jerked his arm up and presented the datapadd in his hand to Mega Man X.

Quietly, bitterly, Mega Man X accepted the datapadd and scrutinized the contents.

All was signed, all was legal. 

And then the truth became undeniable as Signas did not wait for X to vocally confirm the transfer of authority, and walked over and sat down in the reclining chair set high above the dim of activity…James Cain's command chair.

At long last, Signas's face showed a few creases of a frown as he picked himself back up and purposefully adjusted the seat to a wider setting, sitting back down and then proceeding to personalize all the controls of the chair's keypad and micromonitor.

The age of the Maverick Hunters under James Cain was gone.

A new age…perhaps a nightmare…had just begun.

Tours at Sergei Cossack's Citadel had ceased three days ago. But upon thinking about it, Bright Man came to the conclusion that perhaps that was for the best. Kalinka had ordered them stopped temporarily…she had said it was just too painful.

And that didn't unnerve any of the robots that much. Tourism had been slowing down a lot since March, and it was just beginning to become a chore. One that none of them felt like doing.

The bright orange colored robot slowly walked down away from the elevator in the Fourth Ring and towards the center of the underground structure. In one direction, there was the hangar, along with all its scrapped guardians and various other tinker projects. In another lay the eternal mausoleum dedicated to the long since nonfunctioning body of Mega Man, along with the final 'information' capsule sent to Doctor Cossack by Doctor Light as a permanent fixture. In still another lay the underground bedding facilities, where Doctor Cossack had once…

Bright Man seemed to jerk as that thought ran across his mind, slowing down until he plodded along at a jerking, unsteady pace. Finally, he pushed himself past that troubling thought before it could cause any serious damage to his circuits. Death was a painful issue, even for mere robots…

Bright Man found Toad Man at the gigantic computer and its oversized monitor that had once served as the watchtower for all the Citadel. Now a mere computer with closed circuit camera abilities, a private and untraceable linkup to the net, and a fast waning supply of memory and RAM, it was a memorial piece that none of them were able to part with, that had long since turned obsolete by stronger supercomputers of the day.

"Any new reports?" Bright Man asked his comrade. Toad Man gave his equivalent to a headshake and continued to stare at the screen. Bright Man's usually lit smile faded somewhat. "Any new missions for the Foregone Five?" Once more, Toad Man shook his head. "You know, a verbal response might be more appropriate, Toad Man." Bright Man finally mumbled.

At long last, the robot turned, a weary look on his face…what existed of it.

"Bright Man, I have not been functioning at full capacity since our creator passed away."

"None of us have. Why, even Pharaoh Man has been affected. More than any of us, perhaps." The robot with the bulb attached to his head looked around. "Speaking of which, have you seen him anywhere?"

"The last word I heard from him, he was off to the residential corridors of the upper floors. Looking for Kalinka, I presume." Toad Man replied with a slight croak. "I also presume that he will hail us when he deems fit. Until then, you may assist me with the status reports on Dust Man's efficiency ratings. The newest readings seem to indicate he requires a new turbofan."

Up above ground, in one of the massive spires in the mighty Citadel of Siberia, a certain goldenrod and silver(Once black, but not now, with his armor upgrades) robot who slowly was becoming more than just a robot walked through the hallways. Back before Wily had arrived and kidnapped Kalinka and added onto this Citadel, it was little more than a small mansion with one impressive spire. This was that spire, untouched by Wily's insane machinations and layouts for the ultimate deathtrap of Mega Man. That plan had, of course, failed. The demand for tourism required that Wily's additions be left intact for the wonder and awe of the paying public…but this section of the Citadel had always been cordoned off, always off limits.

Kalinka had lived up here for most of her young life…back when Mega Man was still alive, and when she was a little girl. Her bedroom, warm and soft and full of old, musty memories from the stuffed animals and lace pillows. Memories of how she was so carefree as a child, memories of a mother she only knew until the age of five, when the entrancing blond haired woman died from a genetic defect in her heart…

Painful, saddening memories of a childhood lost to a world that held so much joy…and yet so much more sorrow and anguish. Wily had come along and kidnapped her, keeping her cramped up in that cold, dark space, as she grew weaker and weaker because of Wily's demonic ways, from lack of wholesome food and warmth, and all the time being guarded by robots who wouldn't have thought twice about blowing her to atoms if she just as sneezed wrong…

A childhood barely redeemed by the coming of a certain gray and red robot with a black visor that hid all of his eyes, and a yellow, slightly worn scarf trailing out behind him as he blasted his way through the gaggle of guards assigned to her…

Of being brought back to her father's Citadel, and being dragged down to its lowest level, all the while weak and on the edge of collapse…

And watching in horror as a dismayed Sergei Cossack fought an embittered and powerful Mega Man, Wily's War Machine that Cossack piloted showing holes and sparks and jagged tears, all the while threatening to blow apart…

Save for Protoman, Sergei Cossack, and she herself could have been lost on that late night. And then the carefree father, the quiet, smiling father Kalinka had known vanished in that instant…

Gone was the gentle parent, replaced by a bitter robotics genius working side by side with Doctor Thomas Light to improve Mega Man, to defeat Wily, to make the world safe…

_"Daddy, come take a look at my painting!!"_

**"Not now, Kalinka, daddy is very busy…"**

"But papa, you've been working for hours…" Kalinka had whined. 

**"ENOUGH!!" **Sergei shouted, turning about from the worktable, all of his appearance disheveled, weary, a half completed schematic for an upgraded Mega Buster module lying on his desk. **"Kalinka, I don't have TIME for your stupid paintings! I'm trying to make the world safe from that madman who kidnapped you!!"**

"But I'm all right, daddy, everything's all right…" Kalinka shushed him comfortingly. Even then, Cossack's hair was beginning to show signs of gray, all the stress and anguish already heavy on his proud brow. His rage evaporated as soon as it had come, replaced by quiet resignation and frustrated silent pain.

**"No, it isn't. And it won't be until Wily has been dealt with…" **Every step seemed a mile then, as a young Kalinka watched her defeated father slowly trod back and drop his head onto the workdesk, leaning on his arms. **"Just go play somewhere else, Kalinka…please…"** He never had time for her after that, never had the energy…

Parts of her life made her hate him all the more for that…Losing her mother had crushed him, and when Kalinka had been kidnapped, the final chord of strength seemed to fail. He seemed to distance himself from everything of his former life, including Kalinka to a large extent…He found a new life, new children in the rebuilt works of his Robot Masters, pieced back together without a trace of Wily's dark influence within them. He found a new mission, to work with Light to help build ever grander and more potent equipment for Mega Man to face Wily with.

As if he had abandoned her for THEM…

Kalinka buried her now tear stained face into the tiny lace edged pillow of her bed, utterly frustrated, but the tears denying her the release she so very desperately needed.

Pharaoh Man, unaware of any of this, gently knocked on her door.

"Kalinka??" He queried unsteadily. "Are you in there?"

"Go away." Kalinka managed to say, with only a few traces of her despair. "Leave me alone."

And Pharaoh Man, merely following orders, did just that, turning back around and walking back towards the elevators and corridors to take him back to the Citadel he knew and walked every day. A part of him still hung there…and the robot left himself a mental note to check up on Kalinka later and ask her why she was so moody.

And Kalinka was once more alone…

Alone in a room frozen in time with her frozen rage.

"You're sure we're ready for this??" Cumulus Bull asked Kazok nervously. "I mean, going to the middle of nowhere Montana was one thing, but this…"

"We're more than ready, my clouded companion." Kazok replied, cutting Cumulus's sentence short. His cold gray eyes burned into every one of his allies around that table, making sure that they knew he was serious in his intentions. "Far too long has this world not trembled at the power of Mavericks. What we do now shall be something that none of them could have ever expected."

"Predictability?" Dolph Reach piped up, lifting his bottlenose capped head up to appear more alert as he spoke. 

"That'd be my guess." Dash Blade purred. "Any time that someone thinks of Mavericks, they associate with them a certain plot. When they arrive, they have a purpose, a desire to control and dominate an area."

"Yup, so I take it we'll be doing something completely different then, boss?" Burst Scarab asked quietly. Shell Butane merely drew his head into his shell a notch, saying nothing.

Kazok reached a hand up and ruffled his short and spiked black hair. 

"Precisely. We'll be doing the inverse of Sigma's normal game plan. He brought us here to do just that, and I'm seeing far grander possibilities here." Kazok's jaw seemed to seep into a frown before he added, "Perhaps more than Sigma is capable of." He turned about and sighed. "Did we inventory our loot from the raid on the 17th yet?"

"We did." Dash Blade echoed back quickly. Kazok harrumphed.

"All right. Pull out a pair of Landchasers then. Cumulus, Dash, I want you riding those." 

"Just where are we going today?" Shell Butane finally asked. Kazok's grin was positively seething as he looked to Shell.

"We're going to hit the beach. Quite literally." Kazok turned about and started walking towards the connecting underground corridors. "Round up the gadgets and meet me topside in five minutes."

"Won't we be spotted?" Burst Scarab asked. Stunned, Kazok turned about to look at his comrade.

"In the middle of GREENLAND?? You're out of your fecking gourd." Kazok sighed and kept walking.

He had to tell Sigma what he was doing before they left.

Sigma and Iris were in one of the larger rooms in the underground URFAWP structure, training.

Kazok could figure out that much just as he approached from the hall and began to pick up the sounds of plasma blades twisting and slamming against one another. A feminine voice was grunting from the strain of the battle, almost gasping as the plasma weapons crashed together.

Concerned, Kazok peered his head through the open doorway.

Sigma towered over the smaller frame of Iris, barely using any of his strength at all as the newest Maverick recruit tried to block his own beam saber.

What Kazok found surprising was that although Iris was amazingly outclassed, her face held a look of grim determination, inextinguishable by anything. Even if she wasn't as strong as Sigma, she wasn't going to give in. 

Sigma had two wrist gauntlet sets. His left one was TitaniTefloAlloy claws, and his right set controlled a beam dagger setup of some sort. It was the right one Sigma was using for this training simulation…although the usual set of blazing claws had been somehow replaced by a straight bolt of yellow light…a beam saber. It was an adaptation Kazok couldn't remember seeing before, but then again, this was Sigma.

Sigma brought his saber down in a final swing, fully expecting Iris to raise her own pink bladed beam saber up and block the strike with a weak parry. 

For once, Iris surprised him, as she took advantage of her smaller size and dashed away from him, then dashed in again and did a two leg kick that knocked him to the ground and sent his arms sprawling away from his body.

When Sigma cleared his eyes of the stars in them, he found himself staring at a thrumming pink plasma blade, jammed precariously close to her throat.

"I've won." Iris declared triumphantly, pulling her beam saber back and shutting it off. Sigma's usually somber, or snarling face gained a genuine smile at that, and as Iris stepped back and let him get to his feet, he found himself chuckling softly.

"This time." Sigma said, with a little more joy in his voice than he usually allowed. "Obviously, you've learned how unpredictability can serve you well in battle…"

"Unpredictability isn't everything in battle." Kazok finally spoke up, stepping inside the makeshift training room. Sigma and Iris turned, both surprised at his coming. Kazok gave them both a hard emotionless stare. "If you want to be truly successful as one of us, Iris, you have to learn what every single one of your weapons can do. You need to become versed in all of them. Fighting should be next to breathing before you EVER think about going outside."

Iris was a little hurt by the comment, but her wounded pride bounced back as she drew herself up taller and stared right back at Kazok Gravor.

"I WILL get better. You just wait." Kazok seemed to smirk at that, then folded his arms and began to walk back out. 

"Sure you will." Kazok mumbled as he left, waving a hand over his shoulder.

_Sigma rebuilt you because you're eye candy, beautiful. Not because of how you can fight._ He didn't say that of course…merely thought it.

He wasn't more than halfway to the surface exit before he felt a powerful and menacing hand clamp down on his shoulder.

"And just WHAT was the meaning of that little display??" Sigma growled, his hot exhaust breathing down Kazok's unhelmeted neck. Kazok paused, betraying nothing. 

"What display? I was merely offering some advice to Iris." Kazok said back innocently.

"And INSULTING HER." Sigma snarled, turning Kazok around. It wasn't that hard of a task, Sigma was large, powerful, and very much in control.

_For now, anyway…_

"You had just better watch yourself, Kazok. Your attitude doesn't impress me." Sigma warned menacingly. Kazok shrugged, only to find an unsheathed set of TitaniTefloAlloy claws pressed against his neck.

And they weren't Dash's.

"If you're done giving me reasons not to sleep at night Sigma, I have to go lead another assault on the world in the name of our great and powerful group." Kazok retorted, not amused at the threat on his life, yet distant from it as well.

Sigma begrudgingly pulled his left hand back and nodded.

"Just don't say that kind of crap to Iris." Sigma said. Kazok parted his lips a bit to show the sharp teeth within.

"Oh, yes…God forbid anyone should hurt the basket cases' feelings." He brought his gravicrystals online and commanded them to surround him in his field. In a bolt of pure kinetic motion, Kazok Gravor shot up the exit hatch and away from the newly flustered Sigma...

Away from the artificial neon lights and the enclosed claustrophobic walls of Sigma's womb, and into the early morning starry open skies and the snowy fields of Greenland.

His team was already waiting for him, their two Landchasers warmed up and their warp generators ready, figures in the darkness shining with a hollow light.

"Had some trouble with the boss??" Burst Scarab surmised, landing on the ground and folding his wings up in their protective shell. Kazok shut off the gravicrystals and directed them to reattach to his waist, then frontflipped through the air under his momentum a few times before landing on the ground and skidding to a halt in front of his merry destroyers.

"Nothing too serious, or anything you should worry your misshapen head about." Kazok advised the explosive carrying Maverick. "Come on, let's get to work. This place is starting to give me a headache."

It was 2 A.M. on the 22nd of June for the Mavericks leaving Greenland. For the residents of Eastern Alaska, it was only 6 at night of the 21st of June.

Retracing Bristol's footsteps wasn't an easy task, especially considering how mobile and skittish she was in the first place.

"Bastion, you shoulda tagged her with a homing beacon." Wycost muttered disgustedly, taking a lazy dash jump across a ten foot wide river. During the winter months, Alaska was as cold and harsh as common beliefs made it. However, the southern regions, at least, became temperate during the summer months. Which made for some green foliage, chirping birds, and an overall pleasant experience. Wycost lazily slipped his hands back into his leather jacket's pockets and blinked through his glasses, taking a moment to breathe easy.

It was weird, this free time he suddenly found himself with. All his life he'd lived with restrictions, boundaries, barriers. Places he couldn't go, things he couldn't do. 

He held no allegiances now, no duty. The MSWAT had been his home for more than ten years, and he was gone from that now. The Mavericks had had him twice, for very short durations. And the Hunters had had him for a straight year, from the Fifth Uprising to only a splash of days before "Sigma's Sixth".

Now the only thing he was forcing himself to do was go on this spirit quest. It entailed preserving the life of Bristol for a very good friend, to make up for all the lives he had taken over his career.

Sure, they'd been Mavericks. But that didn't change much of anything, at least in his mind.

Over his years, Wycost had developed an instinct, an ability to sense danger when it drew near. Suddenly, it began to scream at him.

He froze where he stood at the edge of the bank for only a moment before scurrying silently into the bushes, well hidden by the dense foliage. To further his disguise, he dropped his sunglare glasses into place.

The waiting was the toughest part of the entire trial. Endless minutes went by, making Wycost very thankful that his unorthodox sense of calm about danger allowed him to face this sort of thing without sweating profusely or breathing so much he might give himself away.

And sure enough, another figure did appear, face and body hidden within the confines of a great billowing overcoat and hood. Wycost felt his reploid adrenaline finally kick in…he waited until the foolish tail had looked about some and started to walk on, then he stepped out from behind the bushes and silently made his way behind the easygoing figure.

Nature grew quieter as the two individuals drew nearer to each other, until when Wycost finally snapped his left arm up straight and morphed it into his Buster, not a single bird chirped.

But just as Wycost pulled his own menacing weapon to bear, his opponent did the same, whirling about and raising its arm up straight ahead. Unlike Wycost though, the forest outcast had no Buster…Just a very odd looking arm gauntlet with what looked to be a pair of launchers jutting out of them.

The figure's hood jarred loose and fell behind its head…At long last revealing the all too familiar features of a pair of burning green eyes and blazing red hair.

"WILLOW!" Wycost hissed tersely. Willow was tensed for whatever might follow the initial drawing of swords, but her face was calm.

"Wycost. Funny bumping into you again. I'm almost beginnin' to think that we might be after the same wee lassie." Willow said easily. Wycost's glasses were still lowered, so the only indication she got as a response from him was the corners of his mouth twitching.

"You are really beginning to grate on my nerves, you know that." Wycost growled. 

"Oh, stuff it, will ye? Just talk straight with me for one moment and admit we're both trailing Bristol." Willow snapped. At long last, Wycost reached up with his free hand and lifted his glasses back up into his hair.

"You stay away from her." Wycost growled menacingly. "I left a promise with a very dear friend that no harm would come to her while she was on this mission." Willow seemed to smirk at that, a smirk that held an edge of deep rooted intensity.

"If she continues on this course, she will come to harm. It might already be too late."

Wycost said nothing, prompting Willow to look down at his Buster with a dry chuckle. "And just what were ye planning to do with that, then? Smoke salmon?" 

"That isn't exactly a Hallmark card dangling from your wrist either." Wycost retorted. "I mean it, this is your last warning. You leave Bristol alone, and never cross my path again."

"Or what? You'll kill me??" Willow asked flatly. Wycost grew still at that, silently battling the question within himself…

_Would I kill Willow to protect Bristol…_

"Think about it some more, won't you lad?" Willow finally sighed. Wycost blinked and looked back up, to find Willow's other arm pointed skyward. His mouth parted in surprise before she shook her head and fixated a somber gaze on his face. "Wycost, your Bristol is in more trouble than she realizes. And the problem is she doesn't remember a blessed thing."

Her upraised arm released a shot of some sort, which flew up into the air and exploded in a violent flash of light. Wycost cried out and shielded his eyes, quickly dropping his glasses back down.

But the damage was done. His retinas began auto-repair sequences a fraction of a second later, but for those precious few moments he was blinded and useless. If Willow had so chosen, she might well have been capable of ending his life then and there.

When he was finally able to open his optics again, Willow was long gone. Wycost cursed to himself inwardly, pounding his palm against a tree trunk.

"Stupid, stupid…Can't believe I let my guard down…"

Wycost sighed and started walking again. "Guess I'd better watch out for that fireworks display next time…"

Wycost left that clearing…But Willow was still waiting when he left.

Waiting to make sure he was long gone, she finally sighed and pulled herself from some tightly packed foliage. Her eyes were still as cool as ever, but there was a hint of increased sadness about her.

"Wycost, you're a good lad, I know that. Good enough you're not some heartless monster." Unlike Wycost, she knew exactly where to go and how.

Her warp generator came online, surrounding her with a locus of light as she was scanned for warp transport.

"I wasn't going to kill you with my wrist plasma launchers. The Weeping Willows don't take innocent blood. But I have to follow Bristol, Wycost. I have to stop her from continuing this…it might well lead to her destruction, and we almost suffered that just getting AWAY from them."

Willow shook her head and calmly pulled her hood back up, standing tall as the generator finished its initial procedures.

In a blink of light, she was gone…

Hopefully, not too late.

"You have more than two hundred individuals at this base at any given time." Signas stated flatly in the conference room. The multifaceted collection of all the Unit Commanders stared at his stony face as he continued. "One would think that precise status reports would almost be a given."

They took a look at one another before turning to stare back at him. The initial fear had now almost simultaneously grown into distrust and bitter contempt.

"We're not all that regular with them, we know that." Zero grumbled, speaking for all those in the room. "But considering that we're almost always continually faced with an impending Maverick threat of some sort or another, we don't exactly have the time to be the perfect little paper pushers. Cain understood this."

"Cain is no longer here." Signas retorted, no trace of humor in his almost robotic voice. "I however, am. You will all see that status reports arrive at their biweekly intervals, or your pay will be docked."

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Sirius demanded, pounding a fist on the table. Sirius led the 7th Unit, a lower level group whose task was mainly training the greenhorns. Signas lifted his mighty head and bored his stiff gaze into him.

"I am your new ranking commander. If you do not agree with my policies, you are free to resign your post and leave the Maverick Hunters." It had taken all of two hours for Signas to go from suspicious newcomer to hated enemy. A fuming Sirius sat back down, his angry catlike face reddening even through his fur.

"There will be several changes to be made to the MHHQ in these first few days." Signas said icily. "However, I believe you will find them to be necessary for smooth operations of this base."

Thankfully, the all too familiar klaxon wail of trouble afoot in the world saved the Unit Commanders from further bureaucratic nonsense.

Zero and X were the first on their feet, eyes burning from instinct alone.

"Come on, fellas. Let's go see what's new in the world!!" The Unit Commanders gave a shout of approval and rushed out of the conference room, leaving a befuddled Signas to sit for a moment longer before shutting down his datapadd and tucking it away.

"Strange." Signas finally said to himself as he made a motion to leave and follow after them. _For all my higher rank, Mega Man X and Zero possess an air of prestige and trust about them that overrides my own authority…_

Perhaps they would become trouble later on. But for now, Signas thought as he shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the now abandoned room of change, it'd be best to see how the Maverick Hunters operated during an actual mission.

"Crikeys!" Doan muttered, shaking his head up at the viewscreen. All the Unit Commanders and on call officers were staring in dismay, but also focused intent. They were all used to being warned of Maverick attacks in this fashion, finding out almost too late that something was going down. For a while, before Sigma's Sixth, they had begun to grow soft. Now with his looming influence once more controlling the battle, their swords were sharpened for battle.

By the time Signas had rolled in, the Unit Commanders and on call techs at the various monitors had summed up what the newest threat consisted of.

"We've got six Mavericks wreaking havoc on the shores of Australia by the populated sector." Bastion called out to all those in the room listening. "Two of them, a female feraloid and a big bullish fellow are riding Landchasers…It looks like the bunch that hit the 27th Armory in Montana is testing out their new toys." He looked up to X and Zero and shook his head. "Not good, but expected."

The question came now of who to send. Of course, Zero volunteered his merry go-getters right off the bat, and X volunteered himself to go along with them, seeing as his own 17th Unit still wasn't reconstructed after Sigma blew all of its members(Save Doan and X) to shreds in Washington D.C. during "Sigma's Sixth". X had survived, and Doan had been in Cairo.

But as an intrigued, and always learning Signas watched, all the veteran team's efforts to offer themselves to face the challenge were slammed down by an overly emotional Sirius.

"Guys, I never ask for that much. But I'm asking you now to please let me and my Unit handle these guys."

"Sirius, you're a good fighter and all, but the 7th Unit is composed of GREENS!" A nearby Tech offered. "We've seen these guys in action before, and they totally overwhelmed that GDC base defense force!"

"Correct. A **GDC FORCE.** Not a Maverick Hunter Unit." Sirius snapped. He moved his gaze around the room, taking a bit longer to glare at Signas in all his emotionless presence. The movement wasn't lost on the newly appointed Commander of the Maverick Hunters. "My guys may be greens, but they'll stop these guys as good as any. We've got HEART, by God, and in the end, that's all that matters. How much you can do when you're pushed into action, NOT how often you get your stupid status reports in on time." Sirius's message was obvious to any of those that were present in the conference only minutes before.

And perhaps the Maverick Hunters wanted to show this upstart GDC flunkie a thing or two about the way they did things, and how they weren't going to change anytime soon.

"All right, Sirius." X finally spoke up after a brief lull. He looked into the fiery Hunter's eyes with all the calm he could muster. "If you think you and your guys are up for it, you can lead the mission."

Sirius gave a sharp salute and headed out of the War Room towards one of the transport rooms. As he left, a nearby tech activated the building wide comm system.

_"Attention, all members of the 7th Unit report to transporter room two for immediate departure. I repeat, all members of the 7th Unit to transporter number two."_

Signas stood there a moment longer before turning to Zero.

"From his comments, it seems he hasn't warmed up to me." Zero rolled one eye and guffawed at the comment.

"Well, no shit…"

The six Mavericks attacking the beachside residences and resorts by the populated sector were having the time of their lives. 

"Boy, it's fun when they start running, you know what?" Shell Butane finally guffawed, pulling his head back before belching out a powerful stream of ignited flames. A nearby robotic fast food vendor on a hoverplatform was hurriedly making its way out from the conflict, but Butane's fireblast melted it into fizzling slag, humorously releasing the smell of well done hot dogs. Butane wrinkled up his nose. "Bratwursts'r better."

Burst Scarab calmly made his way up above the scenery, occasionally releasing an explosive and watching with interest as it careened groundwards.

"Aaw, camaaahn, hit baby hit…" He watched his explosive plummet and smash into the rooftop of the limousine below him. Pumping his fist, he yelped triumphantly. "Score!!"

Cumulus Bull commed in over the Landchaser and scoffed.

"Oh, that doesn't count for 200 points. I'll give ya fifty."

"FIFTY?! SCREW THAT!!"

"There weren't any humans in it. The fershlugger was empty." Cumulus snorted. Burst quieted down some at that, and the Bull chimed in to another one of his comrades. "Hey Dolph, how you holding up?"

The dolphin Maverick looked over, his arms upraised and a glint of very sick humor in his eyes. As the familiar locus of energy danced about his hands, he chittered in what might have been construed as a laugh.

"You should ask, what AM I holding up?" Sure enough, his large extended electromagnetic field pseudo hands, floating effortlessly in the air thirty feet distant of him, was holding up a private sports car and shaking it back and forth with ease. The terrified passengers inside were jolted every which way, and Dolph was truly enjoying himself.

That is, until Kazok Gravor leveled a supercharged plasma blast at the vehicle and blew the car and its human inhabitants to sliced atoms. The leader of the six grimly stared at Dolph before clucking his tongue.

"How many times do I gotta tell you not to play so rough with your toys?? Christ, Dolph, we're trying to make a point here, not make Candid Camera!"

Dolph sulkily shut off his weapons system and turned about to look at Kazok, floating effortlessly as he was suspended by the gravity negating field of his gravicrystals.

"And just what is our point, boss?"

"That we're ruthless, dangerous monsters that shouldn't be underestimated, that should strike fear into the hearts of everyone who walks the planet."

"Right, right." Dash Blade harrumphed, finally speaking up. She pulled her TitaniTefloAlloy claws back in from their use, which had involved driving by screaming civilians and chopping them into shreds as she passed. "And just how are we supposed to do that by busting up the local clambake?"

In response, a mass chorus of light beams appeared in a gigantic cluster two hundred feet distant, each sound and air distortion unmistakable as a relatively powerful gust of wind kicked the beach sand up over the Mavericks.

Kazok calmly brushed the particles of silicon off of himself before grinning at the sight.

"By having a little fun with them, that's how."

The members of the 7th Maverick Hunters Unit took a moment to blink and get their bearings. Then they realized that six imposing figures were calmly staring at them in the mid-afternoon sunlight…

Sirius raised his hand to them, morphing it into a Buster as it swept up in its grand gesture. 

"MAVERICKS!!" The Commander of the 7th bellowed. "Your reign of terror ends here!!" 

Kazok stood at the front of the pack, or more precisely, hovered as he was surrounded by his cloud of gravicrystals. Nonplussed at their bravado, his quizzical gaze soon turned back to a grim mocking smile as he realized how very shallow it was.

"Christ, they didn't send X or Zero. The Hunters must really think we're a bunch of goofs…" He wasn't at all disturbed when all his fellow Mavericks chuckled a bit at his comments. Cumulus Bull eased back further on the seat of his Landchaser and sighed.

"Well, boss, I guess we'd better show 'em that they're not messing with a gaggle of rookies now, are they?" Kazok looked at Cumulus Bull, who up until now had only been using the nose cannon of his Landchaser. The poor Maverick hadn't found an occasion to really use his special weaponry.

Until now.

With very little fanfare and only a few sparks of electricity, Cumulus Bull began to create an ionic disturbance above him. 

Only a few seconds later, much to the Hunter's addled surprise, a skewering superbolt of lightning flared out from the small pack of Mavericks, downing five in their front ranks within less than a second.

"CHARGE!!" A surprised, but now infuriated Sirius commanded. The remaining Maverick Hunters were stunned for a few more moments, but then charged on ahead, their Busters and magrifles raised for battle.

But they were too few…too unprepared, too untrained for what came.

Burst Scarab flew in above the charging pack, dropping a salvo of explosive bombs that blew some of the Hunters into oblivion, and scattered them all across the winds from the shockwave.

"Now you Hunters are gonna bite the dust!" Dash Blade yowled angrily, pushing her Landchaser into a wheelie and plowing through another Hunter. She held her right hand out and skewered another Hunter straight through his neck, dragging his gasping frame along as her Landchaser proceeded away from the now disoriented, disorganized, and unprepared greenhorns.

She grimaced somewhat as the purple blood from his veins slowly began to trickle down her arm gauntlet.

"You're bleeding on me…" She growled, glaring murder into the gasping, horrified Hunter's eyes. "DON'T BLEED ON ME!!" She dropped the Landchaser to its normal riding position and brought her other claw to bear, bringing the plasma gauntlet to life and slashing his head clean off. Without the structure of his head to grasp onto her other set of claws, the rest of the now destroyed Hunter slipped to the ground, freeing Dash Blade from her freshest kill. She shook the slick fluid off of her left hand and held it out to let the wind do the rest of the cleanup job, grimacing. "Stupid Maverick Hunters…"

As Shell Butane tipped onto his shell sideways with all his limbs pulled in and rolled through a dense pack of rapidly firing greenhorns, Kazok Gravor set his sights on the leader of this batch of Hunters.

Sirius was beginning to show signs of wear. His Buster was up and charging, but somehow the black armored Maverick with no helmet and surrounded by the floating gems was completely keeping him on the defensive. There wasn't that blood-crazy glint of madness in the Maverick's eyes, either, a glare Sirius had long associated with the Mavericks. No, there was definite intelligence in this one, a cold, calculating rational mind bent on a wrong path.

"You know, I was hoping they'd send us someone prestigious to tangle with, like X or Zero." Kazok chuckled a bit, firing off another semicharged bolt of plasma. Sirius ignited his dash thrusters and pushed himself out of the way, not failing to notice the mass of beach sand turned to a glassy pulp by the radiant shot's power. "But all the Hunters bother to send us is a group of rookies and one outdated and underpowered Unit Commander. Please, you're almost not worth my time." 

Sirius lifted his Buster up and fired its stored supershot, screaming at the top of his lungs. "SO WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!!"

At the range they were fighting, the shot should have hit despite any efforts to evade…

But with a blur of movement Sirius couldn't follow, Kazok shifted away from the shot and just in front of Sirius. Startled, the Maverick Hunter tried to take a few steps back…but he couldn't.

A shock ran through his entire body, and suddenly every part of Sirius seemed to weigh a ton. Breathing became a labored task, movement impossible…

And with a startling realization, one that was near impossible, the Maverick Hunter noted he was hovering six feet above the ground, facing downwards as his body lay flat against an invisible surface.

Kazok Gravor stood below Sirius, watching the Maverick Hunter struggle with one hand gripping at his chin and a wan smile gracing his face.

"Well, I'll be…I knew my gravicrystals could support me, but the one detail I hadn't worked out was were they capable of paralyzing my enemies…Thanks for being my guinea pig, Hunter!" Kazok said it so cheerily, an observer hearing only the audio might think that Kazok was as soon thanking Sirius for the loan of his car than keeping him held in a deathgrip.

"Gravi…crystals…"

"Yup, gravicrystals." Kazok Gravor chirped in response to the heavily breathing Hunter. He brushed back his short and bristly black hair and then set both hands on his hips. "I suppose the question now is, what do I do with ya…" He looked to his merry band of Mavericks, who had finished their gruesome assault and were now massed close behind him. "Any suggestions, team?"

"Fry the bastard!" Shell Butane said quickly.

"Let's shock his systems a bit." Cumulus Bull snorted, leaning back on his Landchaser with a cruel smile.

"Natch that. Let's stick one of my bombs on him and tell him to warp back to mommy before we blow him and whatever's nearby when he reappears into atoms!" Burst Scarab cackled, rubbing his hands together.

"Those are all fine ideas, I'll grant you. A little sick and twisted, but they'd get the job done. Still, there's a little more than just ending his life to be done in this scenario." Kazok looked up into Sirius's shattered and defeated face and grinned. "We're not sending him to be with the rest of his men QUITE yet…"

Everyone in the War Room of the MHHQ was waiting anxiously for a call back from Sirius and the 7th Unit. They were expecting at least some losses, with a group that untrained. But everyone in the room held high hopes that their group would emerge triumphant over the newest batch of Sigma's Mavericks. Even Signas seemed more alert and concentrated on everything as he sat in Cain's command chair, watching the spectacle with that air of superiority.

So when the chirping signal of a transmission coming in over the Maverick Hunter's primary combat frequency, all eyes lit up with hope. X's finger reached over to the nearby comm station and pressed the receive switch.

"This is Mega Man X at Maverick Hunter Headquarters. How did you manage, guys?"

_"Quite well, actually." _Came an unnervingly humorous voice. _"The poor bastards didn't stand a chance."_ It wasn't Sirius, but it was probably one of his men…Cheers began to echo about the War Room, unsteady at first.

The voice on the other end of the line waited for the noise level to reach its maximum before continuing.

_"Although, X, next time you should bother sending yourself. You don't send Greenhorns to mess with us Mavericks."_ The cheering stopped instantly, as every face in the room switched to incredulous disbelief and dread. _"Or Zero. Or at least one of your better guys. I mean, COME ON!! We're raving, bloodthirsty ruthless messengers of freedom for our race against the human menace, and you send ERRAND BOYS? Christ. We've spared you their embarrassing return and killed them all off for you. Don't bother to thank me, I'm just doing my job." _The Maverick on the other end of the line was having a genuinely fun time making this call.

"WHO IS THIS?!" Zero demanded, stepping next to X and glaring at an enemy he couldn't see.

_"For the record, I suppose it's best to introduce me and my team. I'm Kazok Gravor. We also have Dash Blade, Cumulus Bull, Burst Scarab, Dolph Reach, and Shell Butane. And right now, your name is mud."_

"Why, you…" X began angrily, bile threatening to rise up in his throat as he thought of all the Hunters wiped out by their duress.

_"Aah, aah, don't go yelling at me for something that you do too, X. Consider this your wakeup call. The Mavericks are back in full force, and we're NOT to be underestimated. We'll be making several encore appearances wherever we feel like it, and you should be able to figure out where we've been by the smoking rubble left behind. If you feel so inclined, you can drop in on our next party. But, then again…If you aren't any more skilled than your Commander Sirius here, maybe it'd be better for you to stay home and keep curled up with your tails between your legs."_

"DAMN YOU!!" Zero screamed with all the hated disgust he could muster, and then went on to swear in six different languages. Kazok paused for a moment, waiting for him to finish.

_"Nice string of colorful metaphors there. Although, telling me to stuff it with a beam saber isn't going to solve your little crisis. I hope you can fight as well as you swear, Zero…We'll be waiting for a real challenge."_

The conversation was ended as Sirius's comm, and most likely Sirius himself, registered the whine of a plasma supershot charging up and then being discharged…

The line went dead, and so did the War Room for several seconds.

Finally, Signas bothered to speak up.

"I believe your judgement was faulted in this scenario, Commanders X and Zero. You should not have sent such a poorly prepared Unit into that battle."

Neither Hunter felt like staring at Signas at that moment. Both thought that if they did, his head might very well roll onto the floor from the carnage they'd inflict on him and his damnable carcass.

But all the veteran Hunters and techs in that room knew then and there they were fighting a two front war from that moment on.

With Signas, and with the Mavericks.

And two front wars always meant defeat.


	16. Cracks In The Wall

**__**

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: CRACKS IN THE WALL

X walked into the Medical Bay of the MHHQ, already in dour spirits. It was 11 A.M. on the 22nd, which meant that there was only two more hours until Signas could celebrate his first full day on the job. Of course, from what he and the rest of the Hunters had seen of Signas so far, he wasn't the type to celebrate. That would contradict the burr in his butt.

"Yo, Hazil!" X called out. He got no response. Calmly, he stared around the interior. Every last bed was empty…which would be expected. Grimly, X reminded himself that there'd been no survivors from yesterday's mission. There was no need for repair beds. Only body bags. Zero was off somewhere with Bastion or some other slope, getting sloshed, no doubt.

"Hazil?" X called out again. This time, he got an angered grunt which degraded into cursed mumblings. The Blue Bomber blinked a few times, then snapped his fingers and rounded the corner into the tiny hidden office of Hazil. The medical reploid was hunched over his computer, angrily typing out letter after letter of meaningless bureauspeak dribble.

"Answering fanmail?" X asked.

"Writing death certificates." Hazil snapped back tersely. His fingers rattled over the keyboard time and time again. "God, this part of the job pisses me off."

X looked over Hazil's shoulder. In the part of the electronic form marked 'Cause of death', Hazil had put in every one **Extermination by superior Maverick forces as per the new leadership at MHHQ.**

"Signas probably won't like that particular batch of files." X noted drily. 

"Signas can blow it out his o-ring." Hazil growled. "He doesn't have to spend hours piecing Hunters back together after the battles. And besides, he's got me in a ROYALLY good mood today. If I wasn't so damned busy, I'd be stoned off my ass too." Hazil stopped typing for a moment, as if muddling over something in his mind. "Come to think of it…" His hand snaked down to a drawer in his desk and pulled it open, then whipped out a half full bottle of scotch. "Drank half of this last night in memory of Cain." Hazil lifted the bottle and stared at the ceiling. "Here's to you, Doc!" 

X said nothing at Hazil's display of public attempted drunkenness, even when Hazil plopped the now empty bottle back in his desk and slammed it shut. But his wandering eyes finally did catch an unusual sight over on Hazil's windowsill.

"What the…What's Sigma II doing here?!" Hazil blinked sourly a few times, then looked over his shoulder at the aforementioned goldfish and his cumbersome goldfish bowl, carved from Armored Armadillo's shell. 

"That's why Signas has me so pissed. He cracked into Cain's office last night…through all the security clearances…and started to make it his own." Hazil's eyes betrayed the rage boiling within. "I got up this morning, was walking to the War Room, and walked by Cain's office before I did a double take and realized that poor Sigma II and a good shitload of Cain's stuff was lying in the hallway unloved and unnoticed. Only thing Signas kept was the desk, the computer, and the blue lights. Prick." Hazil sighed and got up from his desk, walking into the main section of his workspace. "Just another reason for me to hate working for him. I tell you, the only reason I've stuck around so long was to keep tabs on Cain. You and Zero I don't worry about now, especially seeing as…" Hazil paused for a moment, then sure that no one was listening, continued. "…Seeing as Zero's been cured of that damned Virus."

"What about all the other Hunters?" X asked, stunned at Hazil's announcement. "Don't you worry about them?"

"The rookies will either get better or die. The veterans can handle themselves, they know the risks. I've been with the Maverick Hunters even longer than YOU, X." Hazil said pointedly. He walked for the nearby supply cabinet, his hands slipping behind the bandages and cotton balls and snaking about yet another hidden bottle of liquor. "I'm old, I'm tired, and I'm Goddamn SICK of watching everyone I give a damn about die on me."

"So what then?" X queried icily. "Are you gonna leave the Hunters? The place you've called home for the last 13 years?" 

Hazil took a deep swig of the brown liquid before speaking, his eyes becoming somewhat blurred, but still acute enough to whack a fly at 50 yards. "And just where would I go? No, X. For the time being, I'm stuck here. I've got nowhere else to crash." Hazil walked over to the swiveling desk chair he'd left between two medical beds and plopped down, leaning the bottle of alcohol on his leg and looking up to X. "But I doubt you came in here to shoot the breeze with an old coot like me. What's on your mind, sureshot?"

"My armors." X said firmly. "The condition of my armors." Hazil shut his eyes.

"Yeah…those things." He put the bottle down and rubbed at his temples, pushing back the grayed hair covering it. "I've already told you that one through three are so far gone, it's no use trying to save 'em. So if you want, you can use 'em. They just might die on you during a crucial moment when you'd NEED 'EM. As for four, it's a little better off. I've stuffed its component codes into computer stasis. You can't access it, but it's saved for posterity. Or until someone else can do a better job of reconstructing it than I can."

"So Paladin, Retribution, and Golden Hyper are all usable…but not for long. And Force is off limits." X mumbled. "Just friggin' great." He didn't need to mention Paladin 2 and Hyper Retribution. Those had vanished as soon as their respective crises, the Shadow Hunters and the Erasure Incident on Laguz Island in 2128, were done with. 

"So, would that be it then?" Hazil asked, setting the now partially emptied liquor bottle into his chest compartment.

"Pretty much." X answered glumly. "I just hope that my armors'll stand up to the test when I need it most."

"We expect the worst and hope for the best, X." Hazil said. "But in the end, wear steel underwear, because lady luck loves to screw us where it hurts."

"Hazil, we don't have anal cavities." X reminded him. Hazil threw his arms up in the air.

"Good thing too! The thought of spending about thirty minutes every day hunched over a pot and grunting doesn't exactly catch my fancy!!"

X shook his head and walked out, his part of the discussion completed. Hazil's jokes were becoming more desperate in nature.

Signas's presence was weighing heavily on them all.

The dark armored 'Commander' of the Maverick Hunters sat in his office, quietly chewing on his thoughts as well as a stick of rock candy. Finally, he set the hardened sugar down on a sterile tissue and turned to his keyboard and monitor.

**_To: Global Defense Council, Liason HQ_**

From: Commander Signas, MHHQ

Topic: The Maverick Hunters

_My arrival at the MHHQ didn't go unnoticed. Indeed, it seemed that the entire population within had been watching me yesterday. They are suspicious and mistrusting of me, and seem only to humor my authority._

Perhaps it is because I am filling the role once occupied by Doctor Cain, whom they trusted beyond a doubt. I cannot explain their affinity for the late archaeologist and creator of the reploid race. It defies explanation. It is both irrational and illogical. In fact, for lack of a better term, their attitudes are…human…

As you probably know, the 7th Unit went off yesterday to do battle with the most recent batch of Mavericks. We now are aware of their names. Kazok Gravor, Dash Blade, Cumulus Bull, Dolph Reach, Burst Scarab and Shell Butane. Only six this time. I can state that this particular strategy of Sigma's making is far different than any before. It isn't a strategy. It seems as though the great Sigma has simply brought forth six new blights and instructed them to make merry mayhem wherever the wind blows them.

Also, I was reviewing some of Cain's old E-Mails, and have uncovered an unsettling truth. The recent six Mavericks being used by Sigma were at one time before, loyal members of the peace movement URFAWP. While not unusual, considering his previous borrowings from Doppler's stock, Repliforce's troops, and in the very first, Maverick Hunters themselves, it is nonetheless saddening. J.K. Horn had to be unnerved when he wrote that particular informative E-Mail.

"Devastated" was probably more accurate, Signas thought. But he merely sat there with that familiar blank stare, looking at the screen for a few seconds before continuing his tiny tirade.

_As a result of the actions of the six new Mavericks, the Hunters have lost every last member of the 7th Unit. They've lost entire Units before, but in the face of far greater forces. To have an entire team taken down by six…_

I am making changes as I see fit here at the MHHQ. However, my primary focus and concern is the recent wave of attacks. I only hope that the famous X and Zero can manage to pull this group together enough to stop the Mavericks. Because the Hunters aren't listening to me.

-Signas

He stared at the screen a few more seconds, then hit SEND. In a blink, the message was gone. 

Signas leaned back in the easy chair and stared up at the ceiling, glowing in blue lights.

"If I were human, I'd say that this is far from over." He finally commented in monotone to nobody but the walls.

_If I were human._

"Well, I'd say yesterday's jaunt went off well. Today's should be just as good, although I'm not quite sure what attacking Karashita Tower is going to do." Dash Blade purred, leaning back and sipping on a canister of soda. Kazok nodded, his dark eyes staring out into nothingness as he hovered in the air, suspended by his gravicrystals. Dash Blade took notice of his aloofness and frowned.

"Something wrong, Kaze?" The black haired humanoid shrugged, turning to look at Dash with an odd frown on his face.

"I'm…I'm not sure, Dash."

"You got a wound you didn't tell us about?" Dash asked worriedly. Kazok shook his head.

"Nope, nothing physical. Just something nagging at the back of my mind."

"And what would that be?" The Feraloid queried, setting her soda down and looking to Kazok more thoughtfully.

"An unanswered question…Who were we before we were Mavericks?" Kazok whispered. Dash frowned.

"I don't get it." Kazok looked at her.

"I think you do, partner." The gaze unsettled Dash, who couldn't help but pull back and shiver.

She DID know what he was talking about…she was just afraid to address it. Afraid or unable to…

"I know that somewhere in my mind, there's gotta be memories of who I was and what I did before I woke up with Sigma staring at me. But every time I try to consciously recall anything, it turns up blank…and something tries to force me away from it. I've even done scans on my files. The program finder found a chunk of my memory, but it's been altered…unreadable." Kazok shook his head again, brushing back his hair. "I know we're not the first Mavericks to fight with Sigma. But more and more I wonder…did we become Maverick by choice…or by…"

"Don't say it." Dash chirped bitterly, stopping Kazok's train of thought. "Don't even think that. It's too painful to think about."

"Even if it's the truth?" Kazok replied quietly. Dash drew her arms around herself.

"I don't know…I don't WANT to know. It hurts to think about it, Kazok. Can't we just be satisfied with who we are?" She moved over to Kazok and unconsciously wrapped her arms around him, burying her head into his shoulder. "Please Kazok, just let it be. Just be happy being alive. Please."

Kazok held her close, a tinge of an awkward and unfamiliar emotion driving through his mind. But it still wasn't strong enough to shatter his thoughts.

_Did we become Maverick by choice…_

Or by…Enslavement…

Willow had purposefully chosen to stay somewhat close to Wycost. Either through some sort of his own precognition that came during the time when he slept, or those mysterious phone calls to some feminine voice…

The tricky part was trying to avoid being sensed. Wycost knew exactly where Bristol was headed somehow…because, like a detective, she and he both were following a trail of clues. And Willow, with every last one of her memories restored, knew the eventual goal, but not the path. 

Wycost might have suspected Willow of having a dark role…But she couldn't tell him the truth. No, that'd just get too messy.

So alone she was when she walked away from the old headquarters of the Second Rainbow, the group that MI9 had splintered from. Wycost was most likely some distance ahead, and Bristol far more distant. 

And then she felt it. It rattled through every portion of her body, racing through her mind, causing everything in her perception to go fuzzy and aloof, as if seeing the world through the bottom of a soda bottle.

"The Trembling." Willow whispered quietly, already feeling her body begin to build up terror throughout her circuits. But no, she needed to be clear-headed for this…

With a grunt, she pulled back a sliding section of her wrist gauntlet and pounded in a large green button. Immediately, the fear that gripped her like a vise lessened, sloughing off and disintegrating. She sighed and snapped the wrist gauntlet back into place, then looked all around.

The source of The Trembling could only come from one thing in the entire world. Something that Willow knew all too well…a berserker beacon.

"I know you're out there." She barked shrilly. "COME OUT!" 

The Alaskan wilderness offered only silence for the longest time, but finally a pair of figures warped in out of nowhere. The strangest part about them that would have frightened any normal reploid or person was that they were HUMAN. And humans couldn't warp.

Unless of course…

"Well, well, I see that MI9's bloodhound forces are still on the loose." Willow said darkly, throwing off her heavy blue overcoat and shimmering for a moment as battle armor melded to her body. Her blue boots now shone with golden trim and an inlaid tristar pattern, and her chest armor dazzled a brilliant seagreen in the sunlight.

"We've been lookin' for you for sometime, runaway." One growled. Willow stared at the two figures, scrunching one eyebrow before her eyes flashed in recognition.

"Aah, Geoffrey and Tim. I should have known." Willow drew back a step, but made no obvious move to draw a weapon. "Are you the best they could send to get rid of me? The Irish Banshee?"

"You reploids don't deserve names." Geoffrey spat, pulling out a familiar metallic cylinder with openings at both ends. Tim did the same, but said nothing. "We've come to wipe out you and that other one. Bristol."

"You won't get near her." Willow growled back. "You'll have to go through me."

"That's the idea." Tim finally chuckled. "The two of you have caused us nothing but grief. And now the world will finally have nothing to fear from you."

"Oh, so WE'RE the enemy?" Willow chortled, her green eyes sparkling with murderous intent.

The only response she received was Geoffrey and Tim igniting their black tinted beam staffs…the same ones that Allegro and Andante had found a shipment of…same make, model, and color.

And the same purpose.

"Well then…" Willow mused, reaching behind her back and pulling out another cylinder, "I guess the time for talking's ended." It was shaped like a traditional beam saber, although the pommel and hilt were a little larger.

Quickly, Willow tapped the power switch on the cylinder's side. Geoffrey and Tim froze for a moment, expecting to hear the familiar hiss of a beam saber soaring to life. But nothing came.

She pulled the saber casing back, then snapped her arm forward. In a blur of metal, a long chain of TitaniTefloAlloy links flung themselves free from the weapon, twisting outwards like a writhing snake of vengeance.

Only when the chain was fully extended did plasma fire ignite around them, each link surrounded by a spherical field of green light. It began at the tip of the weapon, then slowly burned its way back down the chain and stopped only inches from the hilt of the weapon.

Willow snapped the now identified beam whip against the ground for a moment, examining its ten foot length with burning eyes, before turning up to face her two human opponents.

"All right then, laddies. Let's see if they've been feeding ye enough dougnuts."

Silently, Geoffrey and Tim charged at Bristol, the air about their beam staffs singing with the battle yet to come…

Iris was the one who called in the Six Mavericks, not Sigma. Sigma was off somewhere in stasis, a mode he'd been depriving himself of for days. Thusly, she'd been assigned to hand them their next mission.

"I'm about as clueless as what Sigma's trying to do as you are." Iris said admittedly when Burst Scarab looked up with a raised eyebrow. "But he has a plan with this…couldn't stop himself from grinning about it before he shut off."

"I'm not usually prone to following Sigma's plans." Kazok grumbled, putting down the datapadd with the mission dossier. "Sure, he made a wise choice deciding to keep us all together this go-around, but…"

"But what?" Iris asked, lifting her deep eyes to gaze at the Second in Command. Kazok looked back at her with his black eyes for a long moment, then shook his head.

"Nothing."

_Do you think I'm going to say to your face that I didn't approve of Sigma bringing you into this mess?? I'd be as stupid as you if I did that, you bitch._

"Anyhow, Sigma wants you six to head for Karashita Tower in New Tokyo."

"Straight into the backyard of The Maverick Hunters?" Shell Butane murmured. "What the hell is Sigma thinking?!"

"A final test, perhaps." Dash Blade spoke up finally. She looked from one to the next. "Up to this point, everything we've done has been minimal. We did a surprise attack and raid on a GDC facility. We've trained our bodies and weapons to act as one. We've become a cohesive team, and destroyed an entire Maverick Hunter Unit. A weak one, but a Unit nonetheless." She blinked, her eyes narrowing down. "I see only one threat that Sigma would send us there to face."

"Care to elaborate on that for those of us with slow processors?" Cumulus Bull joked, stomping his foot to the ground. Dash's face was solid ice as she continued.

"As much as I dread having to say this, being that close to the Maverick Hunter Headquarters DOES serve a purpose. The superior Hunters will be wanting to take revenge on us for wiping their own into oblivion. More specifically, the same pair that's been in Sigma's affairs since 2118."

"Christ, NOT THEM!!" Dolph Reach chittered alarmingly. Kazok shut his eyes.

"So that's it. A final test of our abilities with the great Prime Hunters…Mega Man X and Zero." Kazok stood up and nodded his head. "If we're going to do it, let's do it." Kazok turned to Iris. "Karashita Tower, right?" He asked, double checking what he'd heard.

The brown haired siren nodded, and that was all Kazok needed.

"Grab Sub-Tanks, team. This is gonna be a big one."

Iris watched them warp out with weapons and supplies in tow, silently clucking her tongue.

"Someday…I'll be fighting with all of you." She put a hand to her hips and lifted her beam saber with the other, watching it ignite to its usual length with her pooled eyes.

"Someday."

"Hmm, so you've come across someone else, eh?" Isaiah mused, looking at the ground. Or as close as ground got inside of Wycost's dream.

"Her name's Willow, and I don't like her being around one bit." Wycost continued. He lifted his glasses. "Any advice from the beyond you can give me?"

Isaiah muddled over the question for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"Just a little bit. Wycost, I'll be honest with you. Where Willow walks, danger follows. It's just how it is."

"That's advice??" Wycost murmured in annoyance. "I hope that the Great Beyond knows more than that."

"Oh, it does." Isaiah quipped, staring at his friend with a grin. "But my job isn't to spill the beans on every facet of everything. I'm a guide, the signpost along the way. I can't do more. They won't let me."

"They?" Wycost replied. Isaiah gave Wycost a blank stare, causing the once MSWAT member to nod his head. "Right, right…stupid question, why'd I ask it…"

"I'm afraid that you're on your own for the next few days, Wycost. Then again, the next few days is all you're going to need to discover everything out for yourself." Isaiah quipped. Wycost lifted his glasses back into place.

"Is this revenge for me killing you by no fault of my own?" Wycost grumbled. "The lame half assed answers?"

Isaiah tilted his head back and laughed long and hard. Wycost sighed.

"It wasn't that funny."

"I know it wasn't." Isaiah said quickly, snapping back into serious mode. "I'm just humoring you. No Wycost, it isn't revenge. The powers that be have spoken, and I'm just following orders. Right now, the only thing you need to concern yourself with is WAKING UP!!!"

And then in a flash of light…

Wycost did just that.

He snapped awake, eyes blinking furiously behind his lowered sunglare goggles. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was…until the unusual silence caught his ears.

It was summer in Southern Alaska. Birds were usually chirping…but not now. He brought himself to his feet, accessing the long range scanners he'd equipped to his goggles recently.

Oh, there was most definitely a familiar sort of energy signal nearby…the kind associated with plasma weaponry.

"Shit." He grumbled, morphing his right arm into a Buster and running off in the direction of the signals. Wycost had no doubt that whatever had been going on, it had been for a long time.

A nagging hint left behind by the once more forgotten Isaiah? Perhaps.

Karashita Tower had been converted to a tourist attraction after the First Maverick Uprising in 2118. Standing at an unparalleled spiraling height, the spire hunched over the lower twin section and cast a long shadow over the swath of New Tokyo unfortunate enough to be blocked from the sun's rays. But it was a slow day, and aside from the core staff, nobody was marveling at the sight from within.

Perhaps that was incredibly lucky for most, because at 11:45 A.M, the Six Mavericks under Sigma arrived in glittering beams of warp energy that reformed into distinct forms. The Maverick logo was one that still managed to strike fear into all that saw it, with the ancient Greek letter for Sigma enmeshed with the head of a wolf.

Although nobody had asked Sigma where the idea for the logo came from, it came from the simplest union of friendship the now tyrannical Maverick leader had known at the birth of the First Maverick Uprising…the emblem identified to his name, and a figurehead that represented his faithful pet Velguarder. A faithful pet who had died at X's hands on June 19th, 2118, and had never been re-resurrected. Copied to an extent, yes…but the original Velguarder was irreplacable. 

So now with the sunlight streaking down upon them, the six Mavericks stood indifferent to all around them, armor shining in the rays of light from above, every facet of their outlines lit for all to see. And then someone walking past the new arrivals bothered to look down at the buckle at the front of Kazok's waist…And immediately recognized the logo.

"MAVERICKS!!" Came the fearful cry. Kazok looked at the frightened man as he ran off, his disinterested gaze far different from what the man expected from a raving, bloodthirsty representative of the genocidal corps. Others had heard the cry as well, and now took off running in all directions, screaming.

Kazok sighed and rubbed at his forehead, feigning pain from the shouts of terror.

"Why do they always do that?" He mumbled to his team.

"I think they were expecting us to go and lop their heads off, boss." Dolph chittered with a grin. He held one of his hands in the air and clenched it tightly, an aura of energy beginning to form around it. "Want me to live up to their expectations?"

"Save your energy for something more useful." Kazok said blithely. Dolph shrugged and powered down. The gravity controlling Maverick turned to his associates. "Well, from looking at this place, any observations you care to make?"

"It's big." Shell Butane said simply. Kazok rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, we all know it's big. Thank you, Shell. Anyone ELSE care to make an observation?"

"If we blew it up, it'd make a mess." Burst Scarab added with a smug grin.

"No, I think we'll try for something a little less catastrophic right now." Kazok groaned. He turned to Dash. "Please tell me you can make an intelligent comment."

Dash Blade rubbed at her whiskers, then turned her head up and arched her gaze to the spire.

"There's an entrance down here. Odds are there's one up there as well. If we're going to take this place, you'll want somebody up top to guard the roofline. And probably Shell Butane down guarding the front door." 

Kazok clapped his hands together and smiled.

"Well, we finally have a winner! Yes Dash, that's right on the money. Burst, you and Dolph Reach head up top and guard the roof entrance, or entrances…Shell, Cumulus, I want you to guard the front door. Dash, you'll come with me for the remainder of this little exercise."

The security guard within the front doors didn't know what else to do. He'd already triggered the alarm system with the specialized code for 'Mavericks involved', and aside from that, he was utterly useless. Even being a reploid, he was far outclassed. A magpistol probably wouldn't even wound these guys.

And so when the four remaining Mavericks(Two had gone up, one had flown and one had to have been climbing the side of the building) walked in the door, the guard merely kept a hand by his sidearm and looked at them with all the courage he could muster.

The leader…It had to be the leader, everyone else was following him…Brushed back his short black hair and nodded, his dark eyes boring holes into the guard.

"Good morning…Fargo." The Maverick leader said, scrutinizing the nametag on the security guard's chest. 

"M…mm…morning…" Fargo finally managed to stutter back, slapping himself mentally for even speaking back to these menaces. The Maverick smiled a bit, then looked beyond the security guard to the desk he'd been occupying…and the flashing light on the phone.

"So…I take it you've already sent out the distress signal then?" The Maverick quipped easily. Fargo froze. The Maverick frowned. "Oh, come now…You think I'm gonna blow your head off if you say yes?" Fargo nodded vigorously.

"Take my advice, kid. Answer him straight, and he won't. Keep up the tight lipped act, he will." A female feraloid beside the leader chirped.

"Yes, I sent out the emergency call." Fargo managed to stammer then. The leader relaxed a bit then.

"Good. Oh, just to put you at ease, my name's Kazok Gravor. Use it if you want. Now getting back to the issue at hand…" Kazok took a step forward. "I assume there was…something special about the emergency signal? Something to let whoever received it know that Mavericks were the cause of your problem?"

"Are you going to blow up Karashita Tower?" Fargo asked quickly. Kazok frowned.

"And what would that prove? Now answer my question. Was there a specialized…"

"YES!" Fargo barked in fear. Kazok smiled again. "Good…but I think a little added incentive would help." Kazok's arm came up, and in a flash morphed into a menacing Buster. "Now then. I'm going to walk you over to the telephone, and we're going to make a little phone call…"

A terrified Fargo watched as the other Mavericks looked at him in obvious humor, then the Tarusoid and Turtloid class reploids set up station at the front door. The giant Turtle Maverick melted the front doors shut with a mighty blast of flames from his mouth, causing the Tarusoid to snort in what might be laughter.

Fargo walked over to the nearby telephone, Kazok's Buster still lightly pressed against the side of his face. 

"Now pick it up, and dial straight to the MHHQ." Kazok instructed. Fargo looked at him.

"Are you crazy?!" He asked incredulously. Kazok chuckled in the depths of his throat, then looked at Fargo with one eyebrow raised.

"Well, let's just find out."

The phone operator in the War Room was shuffling through calls, making a habit of just hanging up. There'd been plenty of prank phone calls from people yukking about Cain's death. Another call came in, and the reploid sighed.

"Give up the ghost, you Crank Yankers." He pushed in the connect switch. "Hello, this is the MHHQ switchboard. How may I disconnect you?"

"Uhhh….Uhhh…"

"I hope you know how to say more than that." The operator grumbled. Just then, X came walking into the War Room, taking a sharp look at Signas before leaning up against a wall and spacing off.

"We've…got a bit of a problem here." The voice stammered. "I'm at Karashita Tower…"

"Oh?" The operator was interested now. Only scant seconds before, an alarm had gone up nearby, emanating from Karashita. He just hadn't had the time to see what kind of distress they were in. Quckly, he reached over and flipped the receive switch.

Then every klaxon in the War Room began to go haywire.

**_Karashita Tower Distress Signal: Maverick Attack_**

"Oh, sweet buttered biscuits…" The operator said with a wheeze.

"There's…s…some Mavericks here…And…" The operator froze only a moment before switching the incoming com signal to go to the room's speakers. Everyone else was looking at him anxiously, and he merely pointed to the ceiling and to his ear.

The phone seemed to get jerked out of the original speaker's hand…and then another voice came on.

"Hello…Maverick Hunters?" The voice came, pleasant and cheerful. "The person just speaking was your friendly security guard Fargo. So far, he's had the good sense not to shoot at us."

X was on his feet now, glaring as the voice seeped in.

"KAZOK." He barked angrily. The other voice paused for a moment.

"X? Is that you, X?? Oh, good! I was hoping to avoid all the faldoral so commonplace in GDC controlled bureaucracies. Yes, I'm Kazok. And obviously then, the Mavericks at Karashita Tower are the six of us. We've mentioned our names before, so I won't waste your time."

"What are you up to?!" X shouted angrily, his voice overpowering in the stunned silence of the War Room. Signas merely listened, one eyebrow raised with interested curiosity.

"I do things a little differently than most, X. Right now, I'm placing a call with you so you know who you're dealing with. We're at Karashita, and despite hitting this place at the non-busiest time of the week, we still have a few good hostages. But I'll tell you what, X. We're looking for a duel with the best of the Hunters. You, for instance. If you or Zero bother to show up here, we'll let them go, and then we'll have our fun."

"Christ…" X grumbled, rubbing at the part of his forehead that showed underneath his helmet. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious, X. We're a different breed of Maverick, we've learned from the mistakes of our predecessors. So to recap, if you show up, we'll let the hostages go and you can take a crack at us. Fail to show up, and we just might bring the house down in protest. And I'm not referring to wisecracks."

"I knew that." X shot back tersely.

"Well then, I think we're done here. We'll be expecting you, X! See you soon!"

The phone clicked off.

Signas turned to X, a frown on his face.

"Why would they only call for you and Zero?"

"We're the best. If they take us down, it proves how good they are." X said quietly.

"They've taken down an entire Unit, X. To send only two of you would be suicide, no matter how good you are." Signas stated flatly. X looked at him with a half smile.

"Don't tell me that's concern in your voice…there might be hope for you yet." X shook his head. "No, Zero's off getting sloshed somewhere, and I learned long ago you don't interrupt his drinking." X neglected to mention how it had gotten worse after The Repliforce Incident…Losing Iris and Colonel had been hard for the Crimson Hunter. Even now, had he truly gotten over it? X wasn't ready to place a bet that big.

"I'm going to have to face them alone." X finished. Stunned 'WHAT??'s and other cries of surprise filled the room, and Signas's frown grew deeper.

"That would not be wise."

"If I don't go, they'll kill innocents." X finished. "I've had blood on my hands before, I'm not innocent. The Kobayashi Maru, Signas. Needs of the many and that crap." 

X shut his eyes for a moment and accessed one of his armor sets. In a glittering flash of warp light, he was clothed from head to toe in golden glory…The Golden Hyper armor.

"I'm going to need some luck for this one." X murmured. He looked around the War Room one last time and shrugged. "I've made it through worse odds, you guys. Wipe those precognitive tears away, please."

As X warped out of the building for nearby Karashita…

He wondered just how long his armor would hold out before they faded into nothingness.

Willow's beam whip had never seen as much use as it had for the last hour. Both sides had been fighting nonstop for that length of time, and the wear was beginning to show. Beam weaponry wasn't meant to be kept active for much longer than it took to watch an old Disney movie. Eventually, you had to shut it down and recharge the batteries.

The two goons Geoffrey and Tim charged at her again, and once more Willow did a Vertical air-dash to slam out of reach of their weapons. She swung her whip down in a wild arc, scorching the earth again as they both hurled themselves out of harm's way. 

Upon landing, Willow turned her left arm gauntlet towards them and fired, the plasmic explosive going forth a good distance before exploding in a shower of blinding, destructive madness.

It was her third shot…she only had one more before she'd need to reload. A thing that took time she didn't have. But it worked its desired effect. While the humans were able to dodge the part of the blast that would have burned them, the shining lights succeeded in blinding them temporarily.

"DAMNIT!" Tim cursed, dropping himself to the ground and perking his ears up for the sound of a whining plasma field. It came, whistling furiously towards him. With an easy roll, he shifted himself away from the deadly weapon again. 

Willow cursed inwardly, her eyes burning with concentration. Damn these MI9 agents and their engineered superhuman abilities…Even when unable to see, they could still counter her attacks!

But Geoffrey was already charging towards her, blinded and screaming out for vengeance, his feet slamming into the ground far faster than they should have been able to. There was no time to think anymore…only act.

Her beam whip snapped back for a moment, and then lunged forth at the charging Geoffrey. Defensively, he raised his beam staff, causing her own plasma weapon to curl about a blurred blade of black and crackle angrily as the fields clashed.

Willow took the opportunity, jerking back on the handle of her weapon and snapping Geoffrey straight towards her, his weapon bent out of harm's way.

"Now to make this shot count…" Willow growled, lifting up her other arm and firing her very last plasma explosive.

This time, Geoffrey was unable to avoid the blow. And despite the flash of electromagnetic shielding that flickered about his body, the attack proved too furious to handle, overloading the shield into uselessness and then incinerating Geoffrey to ashes.

His beam staff shut off after his vaporized hand released the power trigger and it snapped back into the off position, clattering to the grass with a dull thud.

Tim's sight had finally returned…far too late to do his now dead partner any good. Stunned, he watched Geoffrey shimmer in the fire of Willow's plasma explosive and then vanish.

"NO!!" Tim screamed in grief. Willow finally opened her eyes from the blinding flash of the explosion, satisfied to note that one of her pursuers was no more. Then she turned to look at the other one, struggling to get to his feet and keep a hold on his beam staff at the same time.

"To get to her, you'll need to get through ME." Willow growled again, pulling up her blazing chain and gripping onto it midlength with her other hand. As if responding to its master, the section of chain where her hand approached shut off the spherical plasma fields, allowing her to grip onto her weapon without the threat of losing a hand.

That was the first sight Wycost saw of the fight when he crested the top of the hill…Willow blowing one of her opponents into atoms with a well placed explosive. She'd used one on him before…only to blind. Now at last he realized the full devastating potential behind that launcher embedded in her arm gauntlet.

"God…" He murmured, pulling up his Buster and having to spend a painstaking second deciding which weapon to use.

Tim's stare burned right through Willow.

"Goddamn you…you MONSTER!!!" Willow said nothing, only readied her beam whip for the next strike. Tim lifted his beam staff into the high ready position and charged, screaming his fool head off.

"FREEZE, YOU TWO!!" Wycost bellowed, at last firing. His Buster unleashed a single explosive missile…the Narwhal Striker. Tim paid no attention to his cry, but it caught Willow so off guard she turned her head a brief click to look at him in surprise.

The Narwhal Striker round moved fast, crossing the distance between Wycost and the battlefield in less than a second. It exploded partway between the two combatants, jarring Tim up into the air and off balance. Willow was blown backwards, but she brought her beam whip about in one final swing…

It arced up and curled about Tim's waist, crackling furiously as it connected with the electromagnetic shield. Using the last ergs of its power, the beam whip cut through…

Severing Tim in half. The warrior gasped out in pain as his halves fell to the ground, already bleeding profusely. His beam staff however, had been locked into the dead man's switch position…and when it flew out of his hand with all his momentum, the blades stayed active. Thus, even Willow too suffered her wound, being stabbed straight through the stomach as she lay on the ground, the blade running completely through her and into the soil below. The hilt of the weapon came to an uneasy rest upon her injury, and had it not remained solidly embedded where it landed, the entire assembly could have fallen over, dragging the blade through her entire body and piercing the microfusion tank that powered her, causing a massive explosion.

But it didn't happen like that. Willow was spared a death, unlike Tim who gasped for only a few more moments and then died with his eyes open wide, his mouth coughing blood.

A stunned Wycost made his way to the battlefield, looking first to the cleaved warrior. It was then that his eyes went wide behind his protective visor.

"My God…" He whispered in incredulous disbelief. "This guy's HUMAN!" The blood was bright red, not purple…and his bone structure showed clearly, as did the visible layers of muscle, fat, and bleeding, bubbling flesh.

Wycost was used to the sight of death and destruction in reploids, but not so much so with humans. He managed to push aside his nausea, as real an emotional response to reploids as it was with humans, and shifted his Buster to normal mode.

He incinerated the human with an easy blast of plasma, sparing him further misery.

And then it was Willow's turn.

_Where Willow walks, danger follows._ Yes, that was right…

Willow's vision was glassy and blurred, and her body was fast shutting down into stasis. The wound was serious…it could have killed her instantly, for the stab was only inches from her microfusion tank, but she still couldn't get up.

Thus, when a brightly armored figure in green stood above her, Willow was almost beyond words.

"Wycost…you've…got to…keep out of this…" She wheezed, feeling her legs go numb as they went to stasis mode. Wycost lifted his Buster and pointed it at her head.

"You just killed humans, Willow. HUMANS. Do you know what that makes you?!"

"By your definition…A Maverick." Willow replied. Now her left arm, and the beam whip it held went dead. At long last, the charge had died. Her finger released the trigger, and the connected TitaniTefloAlloy links snaked back into their cylindrical prison.

"I was a Maverick Hunter, Willow. I killed Mavericks. And you're a Maverick." Wycost said angrily. "Damnit, you're a menace beyond words!"

"Wycost, you're so naïve…" Willow whispered, as her other arm gave out. "You think you have a true bead on who the enemy is?"

"Shut up!" Wycost barked, charging up his Buster. Willow could hear the whine, then shut her eyes. But she still could talk.

"If you're going to kill me, do so. At least…Then this nightmare…end for me…But…Bristol…be…her own…" Parts of her last sentence faltered as at last, her voice gave out. Her head lilted to the side, and then all of her succumbed to the state known as stasis.

Wycost bit his trembling lip as he looked at her, his entire arm shaking.

_She'd killed humans, that made her Maverick…Mavericks needed to be destroyed before they could destroy again…_

Yet at the same time, she seemed to know so much about Bristol…

"So what's it going to be, then…" He asked himself quietly. "Are you the protector…or the villain?"

The sound of an X-Buster supershot rang over the hills.

Pharaoh Man had had enough of this, and the others knew it. 

"I'm going up there right now." He mumbled bitterly. "Kalinka's been hiding up there for days now, and it's about time she stopped." 

Ring Man seemed to think over it for a while, then nodded.

"If you must." Bright Man said nothing, and Toad Man merely rolled his eyes.

Five minutes later, he reached the spire that contained Kalinka's room and knocked on the door.

"Kalinka!" Pharaoh Man said. "I need to speak with you."

"Go away." Kalinka said, her voice muffled through the doorway. Pharaoh Man lowered his face mask, exposing the frown underneath.

"No, I'm not leaving Kalinka. You have to get out of that room. It isn't healthy!" He persisted.

Silence followed for a moment, and then the sound of footsteps came. The door opened suddenly, and a bedraggled, emotionally drained Kalinka stood in the doorway.

"You dare give me orders…" Kalinka spat out angrily. "Don't even try, Pharaoh Man."

"Hey, I didn't come here to get yelled at." The goldenrod and silver armored robot said defensively, lifting his hands palms out. "I can't help the fact I get worried about you."

Kalinka seemed to smile with a sickening grin at that.

"Yes…so high and mighty and yet so restrained by your accursed Rules of Robotics."

"Laws, you mean." Pharaoh Man corrected, casting his eyes down. "And yes, I am limited by them. I can't let you wither away…not while there's something I can do about it!"

"Just what do you expect to do about it, Pharaoh Man?" Kalinka spat back, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "Would you cause harm to me to move me out of this room, to keep me alive?" Pharaoh Man said nothing, didn't even move as the question coarsed its way through his mental pathways. "Can you even do that?"

"I'm more than an average robot, Kalinka." Pharaoh Man finally said, looking at her without anger. "Doctor Cossack gave me abilities beyond that of normal robots. He gave us all life. And he gave us the chance to be something more than what we were at birth."

"Yes, he gave you all the opportunities in the world, didn't he?" Kalinka sneered. "You were always his favorites. He even gave you the ability to CRY. Not even Mega Man could cry, but somehow my father decided you deserved that next level of being human. He gave you everything in the WORLD, Pharaoh Man."

"And you hate me for that??" Pharaoh Man asked, his voice growing tenser. "You'd hate me that much for something I didn't influence, something I can't change, something I can't feel sorry for?! What am I supposed to do, Kalinka?? Keel over and DIE?!"

"You were ALWAYS his favorite!!" Kalinka screamed, her eyes blurred far worse now. "You and the rest of the stupid robots in this stupid castle!"

"He loved you, Kalinka!" Pharaoh Man shouted. "He couldn't come close to that emotion with me. He created you with his own flesh and blood. All I'm made of is metal that his hands touched! What makes you think that I was his favorite?"

"When he died, the last thing he said was to YOU!! The last person he worried about was YOU!! It was YOU, Pharaoh Man! You were his son, his perfect damned bastard creation son! He could do no wrong with you, he could see no flaws! Where I was organic and weak and imperfect, you were synthesized, artificial, pure, WHOLE!! Do you want to know why I've kept myself cooped up in here for days, Phare?! It's because I knew that if I went anywhere else, I'd have to face YOU!! And seeing your face HURTS ME!! I hate you, Pharaoh Man! I hate it that he loved you more than he loved me, I hate it that my heart's been broken, and I hate YOU, because you are the source of my every pain, my every nightmare, my every shattered dream and spiraling HELL!!"

No matter how advanced Pharaoh Man was, he was still nothing more than a robot in the end. A robot kept restrained by the Laws of Robotics, his every action confined to the commandments that controlled his very life.

His mind had grown leaps and bounds, yet the Laws reigned supreme. And Kalinka's words ringed in his ears, searing through his pathways, resisting, burning, overheating his mind as the processor of his mind came to a startling conclusion…He had broken one of the Laws of Robotics.

_"You are the source of my every pain, my every nightmare, my every shattered dream and spiraling HELL!!"_

**A robot must never harm, or through inaction, allow harm to come to a human being.**

"Firss….t.t….L…l…laaaa…ww…" Pharaoh Man gurgled painfully, his body collapsing from underneath him as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he gave out.

He lay there for a few moments before Kalinka realized what had happened…

"Oh God…" Kalinka finally said. "Oh God no…"

Ring Man and Bright Man had been listening to it all from outside the door to her room. At long last, they trudged in, their large cartoonish optics wide in horror and disbelief.

Pharaoh Man lay there, catatonic, eyes wide, his body beyond control and a finger twitching on automatic impulse. 

"What did you do to him??" Ring Man whispered hollowly, looking first from his friend and then to the woman that was his master's biological child. "Why, Kalinka??"

"It's bad…" Bright Man muttered, picking up Pharaoh Man in his arms and staring into the unfocused eyes. "Kalinka triggered mind freeze…"

_Mind Freeze…_A condition that a robot entered when they broke one of the Laws of Robotics…and subsequently, for all purposes…Died.

"Why, Kalinka?!" Ring Man asked again, looking at her now with anger on his face. "What did he do to harm you, huh?! LIVE?!"

Kalinka said nothing, only fell to her knees with her head bowed, her face a mask of beaten disbelief.

"We have to help Pharaoh Man." Bright Man said quickly. "If we don't help him soon…we'll lose him forever. It may already…be too late…" Ring Man gave Kalinka a final stare of bitter rage, then turned and left with Bright Man and the collapsed Pharaoh Man in tow.

Nobody was there to see the teadrop streak down from Kalinka's nose and fall to the floor.

"Phare…what have I done…"

"God help me, what have I done…"

"You let X do WHAAAT?!" Zero screamed at the top of his lungs. Signas looked blankly at the Crimson Hunter for half a second before repeating himself.

"I allowed X to go attempt the mission on Karashita Tower by himself. I could not convince him otherwise." 

"Bullshit." Zero growled, lifting a finger and poking it in Signas's chest. "You don't know a damned THING about what's happening in our world right now, do you?"

The War Room was dead silent, all eyes turned on the two. Even Bastion, who had been with Zero when they arrived looked on with interested and somewhat concerned eyes.

"I've only been here…"

"A DAY. A GODDAMN STUPID PIDDLY DAY!!!" Zero screamed. Signas remained unfazed. "What kind of authority do you think you command over any of us here, huh?! And why is it that that authority's only used when it suits you?"

"Zero, getting angry at me won't help matters…"

"You know, you're right on that point, but I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!" Zero howled again. "You've just sent X off to DIE, you stupid bastard!"

"My command authority is supreme." Signas said firmly, offering the first hint of annoyance. "I have the fastest processing CPU of any reploid ever made…"

"Which means less than donkey piss to any warrior who's ever been on the battlefield." Zero spat out angrily. "Tell me something, COMMANDER. What sort of a weapon did they give you? Or was the GDC stupid enough to deny you any combat training at all?"

"They did not deem it worthy of my time." Signas interrupted more forcefully. "Challenging my authority in this manner could be construed as mutiny, Zero. Not even you, for all your prestige, can escape that fact."

"I don't consider it mutiny when the command's a joke." Zero said. Signas stood up and held a fist to his side.

"Commander Zero, you are out of line. I'm relieving you of your command as of…"

Zero flattened Signas back into his seat with a single punch upside of his chin.

"You aren't telling me to do shit. But I'm going to tell you to shut that damn void you call a mouth for thirty seconds while I give you the lowdown." Zero growled.

Nobody spoke, not even Signas, too busy rubbing at his jaw and looking at Zero in disbelief.

"You're filling very big shoes. The shoes of James Cain, the founder of the entire reploid race. Any one of us would die for that man, but he died because of an aneurysm. Cain realized that the best sort of leadership was one where he let his men BREATHE. You come in and you're trying to keep us confined to a leash."

"Now see here…"

"I ain't done here, you hoser, so SHUT IT!" Zero commanded. Signas promptly shut up again. "You were sent here supposedly because you have the highest processing CPU of any reploid created. That fact doesn't mean two pennies to me or any veteran here! The GDC's never trusted us completely, we were the black sheep that they sent out to deal with Cain's rebellious children. With him out of the picture, they figured they could send somebody to control the Maverick Hunters completely, dig their Goddamned hooks in real deep and at last rope in the last law enforcement group that gets anything useful DONE. That's YOU, Signas. You're nothing more than a GDC lapdog, programmed to bark at their command and issue orders based on their whims. For all purposes Signas, I see no difference between you and an emotionless, soulless ROBOT."

Zero's face glared with a sheen it hadn't held in months, a furious rage that surpassed all normal bounds. Of course, Zero operated far better when he was pissed.

"And now you've made the biggest damn blunder of them all. This new group of Mavericks is completely different than anything we've faced before. They managed to wipe out an entire UNIT of Hunters, and you let X walk in there alone?!"

"Mega Man X is…"

"I'm well aware of X's reputation!" Zero screamed back. "God's sakes, the guy's saved me from destruction a time or two! But he isn't invincible, he isn't supreme! And the simple fact is that the only reason he made it through all those radical battles in the past, through Maverick Fortress after Fortress and Sigma after Sigma, is because of his damned ARMOR SETS!! But let me fill you in on a little detail that probably didn't cross that super advanced mind of yours in the planning stages, Signas. X's armor sets are DEGRADING. At the end of Sigma's Sixth, they were weeks away from falling into uselessness. It's just one of him and six of them!! Terrible odds even WITH every armor set under the sun, but with all of them degrading into uselessness, SUICIDE!!!"

"Oh, dear…" Signas mumbled, paling a little bit as the true focus of Zero's rage began to sink in. This was the core…everything else he had screamed about was merely periphery.

"Yeah, NO SHIT SIGNAS. I don't know what made you let him go off by himself. Maybe you trusted in his abilities way too much. Maybe you wanted to let him try his best…maybe even DIE. Hell, that'd eliminate one of the strongest elements in opposition to your command here in a hurry, wouldn't it?!"

Zero finally stopped ranting, reaching a hand up to his head and pushing against his forehead. It was throbbing…something it hadn't done in a long time.

"Goddamn you, Signas…" He finished. Quickly, Zero double checked his supplies. He still had a Sub-Tank active and fully charged, and he had four shots of Rakuhouha ready to fly. Not to mention his ever trusty beam saber.

"I'm gone." Zero growled. "Somebody has to save X's ass." Bastion stepped up, his eyes burning.

"You need an extra set of hands?" Zero looked at Bastion with an icy gaze and shook his head.

"No, I need you here. If I end up dying trying to save X…you're going to be one of the only ones left here who'll remember how the Maverick Hunters operate." Bastion bowed his head, but said nothing in reply.

Signas sat back in his chair as Zero warped out of the MHHQ, thrumming his fingers against the armrest with his head lowered.

He was supreme, he was without flaw…

But…

Now, he wasn't so sure of that, wasn't so sure of all the statements his GDC programmers had told him. Was he little more than a puppet here?? More importantly…

Had he just sent the best of the Maverick Hunters to die?

Lately, it seemed that fate liked to have the worst sort of incidents happen on sunny, peaceful days. X made a mental note of that as he coalesced back into reality.

Karashita was still the same spiraling peak it had been back in 2118. Of course, then the threat came from Boomer Kuwanger and friends sitting atop the tower and taking potshots at the world with a high powered cannon that destroyed every Maverick Hunter at the MHHQ, save X and Zero. Who, luckily enough, then proceeded to assault the tower, defeat the Mavericks, and go on to end the First Maverick Uprising. X purposefully tried to forget the fact that Zero had DIED in that conflict.

Now a new group of Mavericks threatened the peace, although their true objectives were yet to be seen.

X checked his weapons gauges. Narwhal Cannon, Koala Slash, and his beloved Hyper Cannon. Yup, everything that the Golden Hyper offered.

He stared up at the top and accessed his schematics scanner. With a single sweep of his helmet, he was able to see the entire layout of Karashita…as well as the people inside.

"Two Mavericks up top…two on the ground floor…and two smack in the middle of the building with all the hostages." So, X mused, it was all a question of which route to take.

The idea of being thrown off the side and plummeting to his death didn't exactly catch his interest, so X chose the ground assault.

He'd reached twenty feet in front of the door when he spotted them with his normal optics. A gigantic Turtloid class and a Tarusoid. Perfect. Some of the most durable, physically aggressive reploids ever put into production was staring right at him.

They blew the front door out with a blast of flames from the Turtloid class's flamethrower, embedded in his throat.

"Well, well…looks like we got ourselves a contender!" The Tarusoid chuckled. X still remembered the names of the six, and identified them easily.

"Lemme guess." He said simply, lifting up his Buster and charging up a normal X-Buster shot. "Shell Butane and Cumulus Bull?"

"He ain't as dumb as he looks, Shell." The Tarusoid snorted, pointing a finger. "Suppose he fights good?"

"He's X, Cume." Shell Butane replied. "Of course he's gonna fight good!"

"X??" The Bull queried in surprise. He stared at the blue figure harder. "THIS is Mega Man X? The fierce blue guy that's given Sigma grief for years?" X gave him a nod, still charging up more of his shot. "Sheeze, he looks weak…"

"Try me." X quipped. He fired off his two blasts in tandem, watching in satisfaction as the shots merged and formed a massive superwave that flew on and bowled the two Mavericks over.

They struggled to get to their feet, cursing at the deep plasma burns that they had.

"Damn you!" Cumulus Bull snapped, twitching to a standstill as a crackling field began to dance around his head.

X didn't have the time to deal with Cumulus, for Shell Butane drew into his shell and rolled straight towards him.

"Bowling for blue boys!" Shell Butane barked, whirling by as X dashed out of the way. What surprised him was a wayward blast of flames from the shell's openings that reached out and slammed against him. The energy field erupted into life to lessen the blow, glowing a deep red as the flames died out. Still, the wound was felt.

"Oh, that's just not fair…" X growled, switching over to Hyper Cannon. Shell Butane rolled on, making a sharp angled turn and spinning frantically towards X again. Flames shot out of every hole in the shell as he tottered on, creating a pinwheel of deadly flames. X air-dashed twice to get out of reach of the blistering flames, then aimed his Buster downwards and fired off shot after shot.

X's aim had improved dramatically over the years. As a result, few were deflected off the spinning surface. Most managed to slip into the shell's holes when they appeared in his gunsights.

Shell Butane's painful cries echoed off of the wall of glass and metal nearby before he came to a crashing halt and extended himself into his normal posture, only keeled over and whimpering at his blows.

X cursed at the Hyper Cannon charge he had left. 10%?! A barrage like that back in 2127 wouldn't have taken off more than 30% of the total charge.

"Then again, this isn't 2127…" X grumbled.

"DAMN YOU!!" Came the angered cry. X turned about just in time to see an angered Cumulus Bull level his hand outwards towards X. Then everything went kaleidoscope as a blistering storm of thunderbolts rained down on the Prime Maverick Hunter. X's body collapsed and he screamed, writhing in agony as burst after burst of pure electricity seared through his body. Cumulus Bull laughed maniacally.

"Oh, go figure!! Mr. Big bad Mega Man X can't handle a shock to the system!"

"You run enough electricity through someone, they'll light up like a Christmas Tree no matter what…" X gasped, struggling to overpower his short circuiting body. 

"Oh, who told you that?" Cumulus snorted. "Your beloved Doctor Cain?"

X's eyes flashed with the power of something more as he managed to lift his shaky Buster arm up and switch his armor's coloring to green.

"No…A Maverick back in the Third Uprising known as Volt Catfish."

"And why should this matter to me?" The Tarusoid chuffed. 

"It matters because he was right…but I still beat him." X finished weakly. He fired, and a surprised Cumulus Bull was unable to dodge the powerful needlenosed projectile that came hurtling towards him. 

The Narwhal Cannon shell exploded upon impact, jarring Cumulus Bull backwards and off of the attack. Freed of the paralyzing rays, but still weakened beyond a point he'd like to be, X got to one knee and fired again, knocking the Maverick into mild stasis with the powerful concussion.

X breathed in as deeply as he could, trying to let his overtaxed health system catch up to itself. Kneeling stark still, he saw the familiar message flash in the corner of his eye.

**_Auto-recharge system on standby. Commence auto-recharge?_**

X sent the silent yes command and waited…letting his suit slowly replenish his internal operations energy to the ailing nanobots in his purple bloodstream.

It only recharged for twenty seconds before an unfamiliar message flashed up.

**_Auto-recharge disengaged. Golden Hyper Armor at critical fai…fai…_**

In a flash of light, the Golden Hyper Armor disappeared…its time at last run out, made only worse by the use of the auto-recharge systems. X shut his eyes in frustration, then finally got up and examined his stats.

87% health. He'd been better, but then again he could recall times he'd been worse. He thanked Hazil for making him keep a Sub-Tank on full charge, then morphed into his Retribution Armor in a similar flash of light and took off running.

This was only the gates of this Hell…X hoped dearly he'd survive what awaited within.

Twenty seconds after X finished his business, Kazok sent a message to the two Mavericks atop Karashita.

"Dolph, Burst! X is in the building, and probably heading my way. Keep everyone else out!" 

A blistering beam of red energy slammed down in front of them, then formed into Zero. The two Mavericks blinked in stunned surprise, then spoke up for Kazok to hear.

"Easier said than done…Zero just came knocking on the upper doorstep." Dolph clicked the comm off just as Zero pulled out his beam saber and ignited it.

"Well, well. Looks like you two got stuck with guard duty." The Crimson Hunter growled. "Now, would you care to move before I have to get rough?"

"Oh, you're probably real anxious to get inside and meet up with Kazok and X, aren't ya?" Burst chuckled, lifting up into the air with an easy sweep of his buglike wings. "But X is a big boy, he can take care of himself for the time being. Right now, you gotta worry about us."

Zero looked at the two. Neither one was physically impressive…but that usually meant they were packing bunches of tricks.

"Burst Scarab and…Dolph Reach." Zero muttered, identifying them with an easy sweep of his saber. "God, does Sigma give you those names or did you pick them yourselves?"

"He gave them to us."

"Figures." Zero retorted with a snarl. "That baldheaded bastard always was terrible with nomenclature."

"If you're done talking Zero, I'd like to kick your ass now." Dolph chittered, slapping his hands together. A locus of energy surrounded them, and much to Zero's surprise, a pair of hands appeared in the air, writhing with deadly contained plasma.

"Oh, that's a real cute trick…" Zero groaned, backflipping to avoid the menacing punch that scarred the rooftop where he'd stood. Burst Scarab was at the ready, and hurled an explosive to where Zero landed. In an easy double jump, Zero arced over the shot and kicked the flying Maverick in the face…HARD. 

"Stay outta this, bug boy!" Zero chartered, snapping his saber about deftly to dissuade the interfering enemy from trying a retaliatory charge. 

It was two against one, Zero recognized. More frightening than that was that they were completely at ease with their abilities. Neither one was terrified of Zero, neither one flinched when he put on his war face and screamed. 

_These guys have been trained…trained by some of the best_, Zero realized in the first note of worry to pass across his thoughts. There was no chance that Zero could cause one of the Mavericks to accidentally strike the other with their attacks, a tactic he loved to use in situations where it was more than one against him.

In fact, they had put Zero on the defensive…something that the Crimson Hunter rarely had to face. It was all that he could do to deflect Dolph's plasmaform hands and jump away from the powerful rattling explosions of Burst Scarab at the same time.

"What's the matter?" Burst laughed, firing off another impact round. Zero dashed out of the way, but the explosion jarred him off balance. "Is the great Zero starting to get worried?"

Zero merely screamed at them both, then charged straight for Burst Scarab and leapt up into the air, saber raised high for a deadly cutting strike.

The beetle Maverick was completely unfazed as Zero charged at him, even smiling a small smile. The Crimson Hunter realized why he wasn't worried as a powerful hand clamped around him, squeezing him tightly and preventing him from escape.

"GYYAAAH!!" Zero yowled, writhing about. The plasma was more contained than usual, Zero noticed. No burns, no damage registered…it was simply keeping him aloft…one hand clamped tightly against his waist and his other arm raised high with a saber that was now unable to strike.

"Nice catch, Dolph." Burst grinned. The blue plasma hand that wasn't gripping Zero tightly shifted into a thumbs-up sign, a gesture that Zero might have found funny…if he wasn't at their mercy.

"Well, the question is now, do we squeeze him to death or let the plasma burn him to cinders?" Dolph chittered excitedly, a definite tone of malice in his high, warbly voice. "I'm open to both." As if favoring the second option, Dolph loosened the electromagnetic field's restraint on the hands, letting the plasma flow freer and begin to ooze across Zero's armor.

The Maverick Hunter grunted in pain, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, come on…" Dolph chuffed, squeezing tighter still. "Go ahead and scream…scream for me!" The pain grew worse, and Zero felt his systems begin to receive damage as his armor gave way. Yet he only gritted his teeth tighter, refusing that gesture of frailty.

"I don't think he's going to scream, Dolph." Burst laughed darkly. Dolph's eyes burned with anger now.

"I've squeezed others to death. In the end…they all scream." He tightened his grip. "In the end Zero, you WILL scream…just before you DIE!!" 

The grip grew worse, and Zero spasmed. His mouth fell open in an obvious grimace of unbearable pain…yet the scream stayed silent.

"I don't scream in pain…" Zero rasped, staring down into Dolph's eyes as the Maverick turned the hand around to look at Zero's face. 

Below at his waist, his hand reached for a Rakuhouha capsule…It managed to grab ahold of it, and Zero held it tightly, drawing in strength for his only shot at escape.

"I only scream…WHEN I DRAW BLOOD!!" He thundered. Dolph's eyes flashed in confusion for a moment…long enough for Zero to flick the lone super-explosive capsule of plasmic energy at his foe.

The shot made a direct hit at Dolph's feet, exploding outwards in all directions. Almost all the shots struck Dolph, though…knocking him backwards, riddled with pockmarks from the powerful attack. Without Dolph consciously controlling the hands, they disappeared from existence, dropping a wearied Zero to the rooftop of Karashita once again.

"And now for the other…" Zero mumbled, pulling up another Rakuhouha capsule and loosing it with a fast ball throw at Burst Scarab. Despite his best efforts to fly out of harm's way in time, the explosion radius caught up with the Maverick, forcing him to crash onto the rooftop as his riddled wings shut down for repairs.

"Damn you!" Burst spat, bringing himself to his feet and groggily trying to ready an explosive shot.

Zero's saber sliced across his chest and forged a deep gash before he could fire…insult to injury came when Burst was kicked backwards.

But as Burst Scarab pulled himself back up to a standing position in front of the felled Dolph, the beetle Maverick was grinning, despite the pain that forced him to clutch at his wound with one hand.

"You think you're the only one who comes with toys?" Zero blinked a few times and looked down…finally noticing a flashing explosive charge, only perhaps a second away from detonation lying at his feet.

"Sheeii…" Zero whistled, backpedaling with a jump flip. 

The blast knocked him clean off the side of the building, and a screaming Burst Scarab charged to the side, firing mortar after mortar over the side at the plummeting Zero.

He reached the building's edge, watching Zero continue to fall to his doom below, the explosions chasing him downwards. Sighing in relief, he stopped firing and shook his head.

"Too close…way too damn close…" Burst muttered. They'd done it…they'd stopped the invincible Zero from making his entrance up top.

He walked over to Dolph and propped his ally up.

"Hey, you gonna be all right??" The dolphin Maverick smiled weakly and looked down at his wounds.

"I'll live…" He wheezed. "But next time, I'm gonna get that sonofabitch…" Burst grinned, baring his teeth. 

"We both will…now that we know what he can do."

Zero was still braced for more explosions from above when they stopped coming. He waited a few seconds, and then confident the barrage was done with, he air dashed himself to the side of Karashita and dragged himself to a slower pace by jamming his beam saber into the building and letting the resistance of the structure lessen his speed.

That little skirmish had done a number on him…

"Well, 2 Rakuhouhas left, 78% energy reserves, and my armor looks like I was grilled sideways." The Crimson Hunter grumbled. "Damn, these guys are good…"

A pang ran through him as his boiling blood turned away from thoughts of battle and to the reason he was here.

"And X is somewhere inside…with the leader." He shut off his beam saber and fell the last two hundred feet, letting his boots absorb the impact. His knees bent a little bit, but for the most part it was a drop he could handle.

He looked at the two groaning Mavericks at Karashita's front door. Neither looked in any shape to be a threat…Neither one even noticed Zero's arrival. And from the looks of them…

"Hey, did a guy by the name of X pass through here? About as tall as my shoulder, real determined attitude, uses a Buster?" He only got fevered groans. Zero narrowed his eyes and walked in, ignoring his own wounds.

"Well, thanks for the help." He didn't have time to deal with these two. Besides, they were already incapacitated.

It was the ones X had to face that Zero was concerned with.

Wycost lowered his trembling arm and let his Buster fade away as his hand reappeared. 

The supershot he'd fired continued to soar up skyward, a massive firework for all nearby to see. But there was nobody around to see. Not out here in the middle of nowhere.

Willow lay there, still in stasis, but unharmed from the blast that Wycost had meant for her. A part of him screamed in rage, wanting to know just why the red haired female reploid lying defenseless had escaped death.

_She killed humans…_

I don't want to kill…Can't…I must, but I can't…

Maverick Hunter…

He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the battle rage inside of his head.

When he had been forced into Maverick servitude, the one thing that he had used in both instances to survive…was his hatred for the Mavericks. Two internal deletions, the same cause. That the Mavericks had torn his life away from him, and that they would do the same to more if he could not break free and stop them.

And now lying before him with bedraggled red hair was an alluring, but potent example of the very menace he had once pledged his life to destroying.

"God damn it…" He finally muttered, letting his arm drop beside him.

Willow would live. He could not bring himself to atomize her. Weakness, perhaps? Isaiah's words still rang in his ear.

_What's worse than a Maverick??_

And though Wycost still had no definite answer…he could believe that somewhere in this world walked a greater threat. If he could snap out of Sigma's grasp, endure for more than 13 years of tortured life, and have a psychic and a ghost as helpers…Hell, anything was possible.

His head glimmered in a bright light as he brought his helmet out of its warp stasis and wore it once again. The reason…the powerful communications system package kept on the right side. The Interdictor system.

Even though Willow was alive now, if she didn't receive help, stasis would do her no good. Taking her back to the MHHQ was out of the question. So was MSWAT HQ back in New York. No, for this one, Wycost would have to look up some old associates…And that meant making a phone call to a person who actually knew where they were.

His comm went active and he keyed in the exact number. First, the MHHQ…and then a more personal, direct access number to the person he was trying to reach.

It rang a few times, then finally picked up.

"Bastion, 21st Unit." Came the wearied voice.

"Boss, it's Wycost." The Bronx Bomber said simply. The other end of the line paused before Bastion spoke up again.

"It's been a while, Wycost. The last message I received from you I got through Doan."

"I'm still searching for her." Wycost said quietly. 

"I know you are. And I can tell you she's alive. I got an E-Mail from her back on the 18th…one day after Cain died."

Wycost absorbed the information coolly, without any terrific sign of distress.

"Gonna miss him." He finally said. 

"A lot of us are. Just how up to date are you on the situation back at the MHHQ, mean green?"

"I'm clueless, Bastion. Been stuck in the boondocks for forever now. What's up?"

"Cain's death triggered an action from the GDC. They've sent in one of their flunkies to take Cain's old job." Now Wycost grew angry.

"That's bullshit."

"Total bullshit, but it can't be stopped. His name's Signas. Heard of him?"

"Nope, but lemme guess. Paper pusher, never lifted a weapon in his life."

"Emotionless as a roploid." Bastion said back tersely. "And there's a new bunch of Mavericks on the prowl. Six Generals, only this time they stick together as a team. They already destroyed Sirius's Unit completely. Him included."

"Great." Wycost muttered. "Anything else I should know?"

"They're ex-URFAWP, Wyc. All of 'em." That was another punch to Wycost's psyche. "Which means you might have known a few."

"The only one I knew well in URFAWP was Isaiah." Wycost cut in. "And he's dead. But it sounds like the Maverick Hunters are up shit creek."

"Just be glad you left when you did." Bastion added sorrowfully. "Right now, X is off to face them alone at Karashita Tower. And Zero's hot on his tail. It doesn't look good."

"I thought nothing could stop those two."

"X's armor sets are failing." Bastion replied simply.

"Oh." Wycost muttered, his heart falling further.

"But that isn't why you called. You need something?"

"Where's J.K. Horn's island? I've got somebody here who needs some emergency medical treatment, and I'm not comfortable bringing her to the MHHQ. Especially not now with Cain dead and new management in."

"Whyzat?"

"This gal killed humans." Wycost choked out. 

"God…a Maverick?!" Bastion rasped.

"A Maverick who seems to know something about Bristol. Until I know what all this is about…she's better to me, and to Bristol alive."

"Well…all right." Bastion sighed. "I'll send the coordinates to you direct." The comm cut off for a few moments as Wycost received a set of warp coordinates, which he fed to his warp generator. "Horn took Allegro with 'em back to the island. He said he was working on some projects for the Hunters…ask him about that while you're at it." Bastion finished.

"I will."

"And be careful." Bastion finished. Wycost chuckled a bit.

"Some day when we're done with this latest crisis, the two of us need to sit down and compare our life stories."

"I don't think they'd be happy ones."

"That doesn't stop us from living." Wycost replied wearily, shutting the comm circuit down.

And then he was alone with his thoughts, a set of warp coordinates, and one very sick reploid.

Carefully, he picked Willow up and held her close as a locus of light surrounded him. In a blink, he was gone…

And for the time being, Bristol was on her own.

Kazok Gravor and Dash Blade were waiting in the heart of Karashita, albeit impatiently. Sitting at their feet was the few people in the building unlucky enough to have been on duty when they arrived.

"You think X would have gotten here by now." Dash growled. Kazok nodded a few times, then turned to the tiny viewscreen he'd adapted to the security cameras in the building.

His eyes lit up as the surveillance optics shifted from one to the next.

"Well, he's not that far away, my dear. I knew dear old X wouldn't disappoint us."

The cameras were still flipping when a surprised Kazok saw another image.

"Oh, that isn't good." He spoke up bitterly. Dash looked over from the pile of hostages.

"What isn't good?" Kazok turned the viewscreen so she could see a familiar red figure with a long trail of yellow hair flying behind him. "Oh, great…he came too?" Kazok turned on his comm.

"Hey guys…did any of you deal with Zero lately?!" He asked tersely. The comm fritzed to life in response.

"Burst Scarab here…Yes, Zero came and tried to get in through the top. He hit Dolph pretty good, but we stopped him from entering. We ended up kicking him off the roof." Kazok turned his security camera focus to the front entrance. Cumulus Bull and Shell Butane were still trying to get up from the wounds they'd gotten from X.

"Well, congratulations, you two. You let the Crimson Hunter get to the entrance that was guarded by our KO'd heavy hitters. X already took care of them, apparently…because that isn't saber wounds they've been hit with."

"Shoot…should we get down to you and…" Burst began. Kazok grunted a no.

"Get down to Cume and Shell, help them get back to base. Dash and I will deal with these two."

"Are you sure you can…" Kazok looked to Dash Blade, who popped her TitaniTefloAlloy claws with a wiry grin.

"I think we can finish off matters here. Just get back to base."

"Ok then. See you when you get back." Burst finished. The comm went dead again, and Kazok turned to Dash.

"Work your way down…intercept Zero before he reaches up here. I'll deal with X, you worry about Zero." 

"Hmm…Buster to Buster and plasma saber to plasma claw." Dash said, wrinkling her nose. "Think those are good odds?"

"I'd say so. You're a lot prettier than Zero is." Kazok replied easily. Dash blinked a few times before Kazok grinned and gently nudged her in the shoulder. "Oh, get going, will you? Time isn't something we seem to have a lot of."

Dash shut her eyes for a moment and nodded, then tore off down the hallway.

About thirty five seconds later, Mega Man X finally showed up. Kazok turned about and smiled at him.

"Aah, the guest has finally arrived!" X lifted his Buster.

"I know there was two of you in here. Where's the other one?"

"Dash has gone off to keep Zero…occupied while you and I have our little fun." Kazok replied cryptically. X narrowed his eyes and began to charge up his Buster, snapping his other arm up and morphing that into a Buster as well.

"With you Mavericks, fun usually involves blowing stuff up. You're not going to win this fight, Kazok."

"Oh, and why is that?" Kazok shot back easily, brushing back his short black hair and readying his own Buster.

"For one, you've chosen an old stomping ground of mine as the meeting place." Kazok lifted an eyebrow. "That's right, pal. Back in the First Uprising, I had the chance to visit this place when Boomer Kuwanger had this as his base of operations. You ever hear about a Boomer Kuwanger?"

"Can't say I have." The Maverick replied easily. "Old farts don't interest me." 

The first blast was fired by Kazok. X dashed to the side and easily dodged it, then ripped off two of his own. The searing blasts were ordered, and Kazok barely avoided them. He could feel his armor recover from its singing and smell the strong scent of burned ozone. It was already rank in the extra large room they had chosen to battle in…but Kazok knew it would only get worse.

"Not bad, not bad." Kazok shouted out. "I'm beginning to see why so many people fear you!" X looked at him with burning eyes.

"All those who thought I was weak have died." Kazok harrumphed for a moment, then grinned and snapped his fingers.

"Well then, I'd say it's time to change tradition." X merely fired off another supershot in Kazok's direction as reply.

Kazok and X continued to fire, neither one gaining any ground against the other. Both were adept in Buster fighting…and both spent more time dodging than aiming, relying on their instincts to rally the shots of plasma towards one another. The hostages had long since fled, but Kazok no longer concerned himself with them. They were merely the bait he'd used to land the lunker. And now that Blue Bass Bomber X was in his net, the worms could run all they liked.

"You're better than most!" X gasped, crouching to duck a shot that came way too close for comfort. "I haven't seen somebody this skilled with a Buster in a long time!"

"Why, did you kill him?" Kazok laughed darkly. X snorted and dashed towards Kazok, switching his armor over to green and firing off a shot of Narwhal Cannon.

"No, he retired." Kazok blinked in surprise at the new attack, then flung himself free of the shot. The explosion caught him off balance, and should have thrown him into a heap against the wall…

Should have, did he not activate his gravicrystals and freeze himself in midair. A huge blast of plasma raked the section of the wall and ground where he would have landed only milliseconds later, kicking up shards of debris that Kazok pushed himself away from.

Glaring angrily, Kazok turned to look at X. Only now was the Hunter beginning to realize that Kazok was not where he should have been…and that was the only thought he could make before a searing blast of greenish blue plasma slammed into his chest and drove him backwards.

"Oh, sure. Use explosives on me, you cheater…" Kazok growled. X groggily got back up to his feet, blinking before the realization of it all hit him.

"Sheeze…GRAVICRYSTALS?!"

"My best damn friends." Kazok replied. "If you want to use your secondaries, so will I." His dark gray eyes burned into X, and he leaned his Buster across his free arm. "But now, where were we? Oh yeah. I was kicking your ass."

Kazok fired again, and X air-dashed out of the way. But the stunned Blue Bomber of 21XX found himself staring straight into the Maverick's face as in a blur of free kinetic motion, Kazok reappeared in front of him.

"Surprise." The Maverick breathed, before landing a solid uppercut on X's chin that sent him reeling backwards from the blow. To add insult to injury, he then shot X with another bolt of plasma.

**Internal operations energy at 22% seek immediate treatment.**

"I don't have time for this…" X groaned, draining his one and only Sub-Tank. Feeling rejuvenating energy flow through him once more as he reached maximum health, he turned and glared at the grinning and hovering Kazok.

"With that little system of yours, you could bounce around all day like a superball. But I have one attack that you can't avoid, no matter how hard you try." Kazok grinned and folded his arms.

"Well then, by all means…TRY." X drew his arms in tight, accessing his Second Armor's…the Retribution's…ultimate attack. The G-Crush.

Already, he could feel a locus of brimming plasmalight and energy begin to pulsate about his body, protecting him as it charged up to maximum, ready to unleash the most devastating wave of roiling matter ever forged by man or machinery.

**_Retribution Armor G-Crush disengaged. Armor at critical fa…_**

And just as his Golden Hyper had vanished forever, so did his Retribution…its time finally expired from use.

A weakened X dropped back down to the floor from where he had been hovering in the air, once more clad only in his main blue armor. And then Kazok laughed.

"Oh, that's your big attack?! You float up in the air and glitter for a bit and then WHAM, your armor disappears?!" He reared his head back and laughed harder still.

X weakly pulled himself up to his feet, selecting his last measure of protection against this Maverick madman. The Paladin Armor. In a flash of light, X was covered from head to toe in dazzling white armor with gold trimming. Only this one offered no air-dash, and with his energy loss, no Hadouken. 

"You have GOT to be running low on options by now." Kazok rumbled deeply. X stared at the Maverick with the most powerful glare he could muster…even though he knew the fiend was dead right.

Zero was not in a mood where he wanted to be bothered. His dash boots trailed yards of fire behind him as he hurtled along the stairways of Karashita, making a desperate climb to reach X before the Mavericks made him a living example of destruction in the name of their cause. 

Yet when he reached the seventeenth floor, a distraction is exactly what came his way in the form of a well placed swipe. Had Zero not swiveled one dash boot ahead of him and shot himself backwards, he would have found himself with a serious wound. As it was, he survived the attack on his life and pulled out his own beam saber, snapping it to life.

A female feraloid was grinning at him, tail waving in the air furiously as she clung to the side of the set of stairs feet above Zero's head.

"You missed." Zero said flatly.

"I don't miss often." Dash growled at him, pulling back her TitaniTefloAlloy claws and igniting her plasma ones. "Let's try for two!"

She leapt down, hoping to pin him against the wall with a well placed kick so he would be at her mercy. Zero merely ducked the flying kick, then turned about and sliced into the air where she had landed. 

The Feraloid air-dashed out of harm's way, flipping in midair with her graceful reflexes and pushing her feet against the wall of the stairway. A stunned Zero had to jump up and somersault with his saber to counterattack her lunge attack, and even then she had enough force to jar him loose from the move and spiral on to the top of the stairs above him.

"Cripes, a stairway isn't the place to be trapped with a Maverick Feraloid…" Zero grunted, leaping up into the air with his saber in front of him. Dash Blade merely bared her teeth in anticipation and leapt at him with another snarl.

Despite all he had faced over the years, all the threats to his safety he'd endured, the one thing Zero had tried to make clear was that you didn't mess with Feraloids unless you had a damned reason to. A pseudo-mix of the all too traditional catperson with reploid technology, Feraloids were known for their speed, their reflexes, and their intuitive, close range combat capabilities. Sticking one in an enclosed space was a very bad move…Zero had learned that lesson from dealing with Slash Beast back in the Fourth Uprising, or as he preferred to call it, the Repliforce Incident.

Only this one was female, and more streamlined. Raw power had been traded off for speed, which in Zero's mind made her all the more dangerous. For every block he could muster, she could bring out two attacks.

But enclosed spaces could also work in his favor, if he could only…

"Oh, just COOL IT!!" Zero finally screamed, plunging his saber in a downthrust towards the charging Dash Blade. A spike of pure ice formed about the tip, and when it struck Dash Blade's arm gauntlet, it exploded outwards. The Feraloid yelped in surprise and pulled back, keeping the freeze damage from Zero's Hyouretsuzan strike limited to the one lower arm. However, it took her off the attack, which was Zero's purpose all along. Now freed from her maddening strikes, he was able to reach down to his waist with his free hand and pull out his last two Rakuhouha pellets.

Dash Blade pulled up her good arm and glowered at Zero, preparing to charge at him. Zero merely held the pellets tightly inside his clenched fist and motioned with his beam saber.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty…" Dash growled low in her throat and then exploded outwards, screaming in all her rage.

Zero flung his Rakuhouha pellets out, striking Dash in midair and midstrike. He protected his face from the resulting explosion with both arms, but the concussion wave and errant plasma still found its way to him, broasting his already weakened armor. Despite all his best intentions, Zero suffered serious damage from the blast, and was flung headfirst into the wall behind him.

He lay there for a few moments, trying to clear the stars from his eyes by blinking. At last when he only saw two flights of stairs, he plodded over to the collapsed Dash Blade.

Rolling her over, the Crimson Hunter was satisfied with the results. He might have been at 38% power, but she was most definitely out for the count, and it was taking everything in her power just to keep from slipping into stasis.

"A word for the wise, kitty." Zero mumbled, shutting off his saber and slipping it back into its recharge sheathe. "Don't mess with the Crimson Hunter by yourself." He grunted from the strain as he lifted her charred, pockmarked and utterly exhausted frame onto his shoulder, then began to walk his way up the stairs.

He blinked a few times, then realized in horror that his attack had opened up her chest armor over in front of his face, revealing the compartment within. His hand shot up and yanked the Sub-Tank out. He sighed in relief, just as she groaned in defeat. It still had its full charge.

"Sorry, lovely, but you don't get nine lives this time."

"I think I'm beginning to understand why all the Mavericks, Sigma included, had so much trouble with you, X!" Kazok laughed as he fired off another searing bolt of plasma. "It's because you always had your ARMOR!!" X threw out his own blast, canceling Kazok's shot. But Kazok's was far smaller…it had taken X his full Level 4 Purple Helix to kill Kazok's shot. "And lemme see…you were wearing a different set when you took on Shell Butane and Cumulus, a golden thingy, and you were wearing a more angled sharp armor when you met me…Seeing as you lost red angles, I think you lost your golden thing too! Which leaves you with what you're wearing right now…the most pathetic set of armor I've ever SEEN!"

Kazok gusted towards X, laughing all the while. No matter how fast X could shoot, no matter how accurate he placed them, Kazok's Gravicrystals allowed him to simply weave out of the way with a mere thought. X received another punch in his suffering jaw and another blast of plasma in his gut…

**Internal operations energy at 17%. Seek immediate repair.**

X collapsed onto the floor, groaning from his wounds. Kazok shut off his Gravicrystals and let them reset onto his waist, then stood above X and primed his Buster with a loud whining charge. 

**_Paladin Armor disengaged. Paladin Armor at critical f…_**

"No…" X wheezed, feeling his eyes begin to shut as the energy loss began to force him into stasis. As insult to injury, the Paladin Armor flashed a brilliant white…and then vanished, just as all the others had, revealing the true, battered and bleeding Mega Man X to Kazok's full fury.

Kazok laughed louder still.

"Oh, this is rich…so very damned rich…Sigma's been trying to kill you for more than thirteen years now, and in the end, who ends up blowing your head off and ending the great wars between the Mavericks and the Maverick Hunters?! ME!!! KAZOK GRAVOR!!!"

"You aren't killing X." A new voice spoke up. Kazok stopped laughing and looked over in surprise, greeted by the familiar hiss of a beam saber growing to life.

What he saw made his throat go dry…Dash Blade lying dangerously wounded and helpless, the great Crimson Hunter Zero standing by her side, and his green beam saber pressed to her throat.

"If you wanna see her die, then go on right ahead and blow his head off." Zero spat out, ignoring his own wounds as he stared down the Maverick. "But I have a feeling you want to hold onto this one, so I'll tell you what. We'll trade victims."

Kazok glowered at Zero, then harrumphed and picked up X by his neck.

"Fine. You throw Dash towards me and I'll throw X at you."

"On the count of three, you Maverick scum.

"Three, you bastard reploid…"

"Two, you sneering greasehead…"

"One, you Demon…"

Zero threw Dash Blade at Kazok, and Kazok made a motion to throw X…But never did.

"HA!" Kazok laughed triumphantly.

He promptly received a blast of plasma in the face, and another in his arm that jarred X loose. Wounded and disoriented, he dropped X and was thrown backwards by the impact of a wounded Dash Blade crashing into him.

Zero lowered his left arm and dashed over to X, snatching him and dragging him back to his side of the makeshift arena.

Kazok stumbled to his feet, half of his face in dire need of reconstruction from the plasma bolt. He hissed at Zero.

"Bastard…I thought you used a beam saber."

"Lying sonofabitch." Zero shot back. "I do…but that doesn't mean I just lost my Buster permanently."

Kazok picked up the wounded Dash Blade and warped out…

Leaving Zero to tend to a very battered X.

He lay the wounded soldier down flat and shook his shoulder.

"X…Come on, X…" Zero whispered, his face showing concern since the first moment he arrived at Karashita. 

The Blue Bomber of 21XX weakly opened his eyes, the lids fluttering a few times as he tried to stay awake.

"Zero…The Armors…" His eyes slipped shut, and he whispered his last word, "Gone…"

X slipped into stasis, leaving an embittered and wounded Zero to pick up his friend and dial in his comm to the MHHQ.

"Commander Zero here. Tell the local authorities they can start cleaning up in Karashita. The Mavericks are gone."

"I take it the mission was a success then?" Came the reply. Zero glared at the voice…Signas. 

Instead of replying, he simply charged up his warp generator and shot out, Mega Man X in tow.

Signas had only finished his question three seconds ago…And then a beam of red and blue light shot down from above.

All in the War Room jumped out of their seats to see a bedraggled and scarred Zero holding a far worse Mega Man X on his shoulder.

"Oh, please no…" Bastion whispered in shock. Zero shut his eyes for a moment, unable to look at a single pained and stunned face in the room. But the rage and desperation inside him boiled up…

_X…You Goddamned idiot, what the Hell were you thinking, going off alone…_

He opened his murderous eyes and turned to the stunned Signas, pointing a bloodied gloved finger at the GDC representative.

"His blood is on your hands, you monster…"

"Is he dead?" Signas asked, slightly fazed by Zero's comment. The Crimson Hunter shut his eyes and breathed deep for a long moment, then looked at him with every inch of anger he could muster…which wasn't hard.

"Signas, if X had died out there today…you would be nothing but atoms. Because I WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU."

Zero left it at that and trudged out of the room, one leg limping behind the other as he pushed out of the sliding hydraulic doors and into the hallways that inevitably led to Hazil and the Medical Bay…the place that both he and X needed to be now.

Signas quietly sat back in the command chair and put his chin on his folded hands, thinking.

A part of him wanted to issue an order for them all to get back to work and stop looking at him in anger and disgust…

But he knew all too damn well it was an order they'd blatantly refuse. The cracks in the Maverick Hunter HQ were showing…and they all came from the spike that marked his arrival.


	17. Broken Blade

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BROKEN BLADE

            "Sir?" Came the query. A man hidden in the darkness of night exhaled in frustration for a moment, noting how his breath solidified instantaneously in the biting cold, before turning about for the messenger.

            "Yes?" Came the sharp and cold reply, more frigid than the temperature itself.

            "We've just received word from HQ. There's a new development in the Renegade situation…"

            Despite his state of exhaustion, the messenger's announcement caught the commander off guard. 

            "Let me see." The commander ordered. Without another word, the messenger extended his right arm out from underneath the winter protective coat and offered a datapadd. The commander took it without hesitation, holding onto one of its edges tightly in a tight gloved hand.

            The gray eyes of the commander danced over the decoded transmission with dread and scrutinizing interest.

            "So…Two more sheep from the extinct flock show their ugly heads, eh? Be sure to send a reply back to HQ. I need information that only the first one knows about." He scrolled down a paragraph and drew in his breath. "What…two operatives dead?!" The commander swore.

            "It's not good, is it Commander Kowalski?" The messenger muttered. His leader shook his head only once.

            "Tell them we need more time. We need more time…Those two must NOT find out about The Cleansing, make that very clear."

            "The Cleansing was devised after they escaped." The messenger observed. "How could they?"

            "Don't you underestimate them. Don't you EVER underestimate them." Kowalski growled. "Reploids are the single most dangerous blight to ever befall this planet, and they move with a speed that rivals plasma itself. If they're alive, they'll retrace their steps. And they'll find out about this project. And they'll try to stop it. Especially these two."

            "Sir?" The messenger queried.

            Kowalski mulled over his thoughts for a moment before shaking his head.

            "Willow and Bristol were in deep, soldier. They were research and development…and both of them are all too familiar with the concepts behind The Cleansing. If they find out…they can stop it."

            "That can't be allowed." 

            "So radio back HQ and tell them as much. I've got to get back to work here. Kill Willow, she's the true threat. And tell them before they off Bristol, I NEED THAT DATA." Kowalski growled. The messenger saluted, then ran off in the opposite direction.

            Kowalski sighed, tucking the datapadd in one of his coat pockets. Once again he turned to the noise of quiet handheld machinery in human hands, delicately carrying out the intricate processes necessary.

            "This has to work. This has to." He muttered to himself. As he looked out into the night, his enhanced optics detecting the faint heat signals of his comrades, the fears continued to eat at him.

            "The Cleansing must not fail."

            _Everything rides on this. Mankind's destiny, its glorious age…_

            More than sixty years after its founding, MI9's master project was now in full swing.

            And if it succeeded…

            There would not be a single reploid left on Earth.

            Not a single one.

            The MHHQ, or as those who didn't serve in its forces called it, The Maverick Hunter Headquarters, was based in New Tokyo. Not in the middle of it, but off to one side beyond the bustle, near a major highway so that they could transfer troops quickly if need be. Of course, it was almost simpler just to warp there anymore…

            Thus, the MHHQ had an almost surreal look on the world. Standing atop the building's roof, which was a common enough thing for almost every Hunter to do at one time or another as they dealt with their inner thoughts, one could stare out and see New Tokyo in full bloom.

            Some fifteen miles distant lay what was Old Tokyo. The Tokyo that had existed before 2087, and the massive eruption of Mount Fuji that had claimed it on October 15th of that year, to be forgotten about as the war struggled in the War of 2090 and relived old conflicts long thought dead.

            Chill Penguin had set up shop on Mount Fuji in the summer of 2118, and had succeeded in causing enough of an artificial landslide of snow that it reached New Tokyo's doorstep. The only thing it affected, thanks to X's quick actions in that conflict was a factory located on the outskirts…a smelting and foundry base that Flame Mammoth had called home.

            Now, thirteen years later, Mount Fuji still stood on the horizon, an imposing presence that continually reminded all who watched it of the ominous threat. Only by careful controls and automated stress valves was Fuji kept in a moderate state of dormancy. That base on Fuji had been threatened, both in Chill Penguin's operation in the First Uprising and then in the Fifth, under Strobe Stallion's direction. 

            But none of that mattered now. Now, the threat was different. The situation was different.

            And so was the MHHQ.

            Doctor Cain had been interred in a hallowed grave, with grass that shone like water and a headstone befitting his life's work.

**_Doctor James T. Cain_**

**_January 14th, 2051-June_****_ 17th, 2131_**

**_Father of the reploid race, discoverer of Mega Man X_**

**_Founder of the Maverick Hunters and Cain Labs_**

**_May he rest in peace, in a place with no war and no sorrow_**

            Everyone had been there when he was buried. Even now, the Maverick Hunters had assigned a new task…A continual guard over the grave. This was hallowed ground. For all reploids, the MHHQ had become the center of who they were. For the man who gave them life was buried here. 

            Two figures stood by the grave. One by duty--A Maverick Hunter who stood beside the grave at attention, a magrifle held beside him, eyes staring straight ahead--and one by choice, another reploid, in dark leather pants and a black leather jacket, his blond hair kept neatly tied together by a blue hairband as it swung behind him from the wind.

            "Well, Doc, it's been a week now." Zero muttered silently, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. The ensemble was a personal choice…for once, he didn't feel like going outside in his armor and warpaint.

            "The GDC didn't waste any time in trying to mess things up. I don't know if you've heard of a reploid by the name of Signas, have you? He's the GDC's golden boy reploid…highest CPU ever or some bullshyte like that. He's your replacement, apparently." Zero clipped bitterly. "Hell, you think those idjits would realize that nobody can replace you."

            In the early morning light, the wind blew by with a chill breeze. Later on in the day, that would change. But for now, the weather matched Zero's mood. Glum and cold.

            "And you know that Sigma's still around." Zero mentioned. "He'll be around for a long time to come…" At that, Zero pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

            "The deal is, I don't know if we'll be around." Zero said quietly. "X…The day after Signas showed up, he goes rushing off to Karashita Tower to accept the challenge of the new Maverick Generals. He lost. He LOST, Cain. Your golden boy, my friend, LOST a match. And it was because ever set of his armor from Paladin to Golden Hyper got completely annihilated." Zero ran a hand over his eyes. "That moron Light built X fine and dandy. But when he built X's armor capsules, he put in a failsafe. Eventually, they degrade into uselessness…I guess it was Light's way of ensuring that X wasn't a war machine his entire life." 

            Cain could say nothing back, so Zero continued, pulling his hands free of his pockets and shaking his head.

            "I wish I could have been there to tell Light to forget that part of the program. Because X needs those armors now more than ever. He still has his Fourth Set, the Force Armor…but the program's frozen in stasis lock by Hazil, in a last ditch attempt to save whatever he can of it." The Crimson Hunter looked up into the early morning sky, only now beginning to grow lighter from a sun yet to show itself over the horizon. "X is alive, but he's down. And now it's just me. Just me and the rest of the Hunters to take on Sigma. And with Signas in charge…"

            Zero's voice trailed off.

            "Let's face it, Doc. This place has gone to Hell in a handbasket since you croaked. And we can only do so much." 

            In life, Cain had always been there to help support X and Zero. No matter how bad the situation had got, Cain and X and Zero, and even Hazil at times, could go off, get royally drunk and forget about it for a while. And then turn around and just deal with it.

            _"Here's to alcohol!" Zero could almost hear Cain call out, from a chugalug session during the World Trial of 2124. __"The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems!"_

            "We miss you, Doc." Zero said gently. "You were the closest thing to a real dad that X and I had. Especially me…seeing as I really don't want to be affiliated with the crazy bastard that created me in the first place."

            _Wily._

            Zero sloughed off the nightmare images that flashed into his mind. Of that madman laughing, ordering him to kill X. He'd fought that nightmare. He'd won. Through a method Wycost would call "Internal deletion" later on, but basically, by sheer will, he had conquered The Maverick Virus with X's help. Despite the fact he was the original carrier and the fact that this whole mess existed. 

            Zero knew how he'd arrived…a reploid Sigma and those two recon Hunters had brought back from the Arizona battlegrounds. He'd awoke with no memory of his past. Only his name, a flippant egotistical attitude, and the innate ability to fight. And yet, Sigma had never told anyone of Zero's true origins…as the Maverick that Sigma had fought against.

            Zero knew now he had given Sigma the scars over his eyes the maniac now wore proudly, through every incarnation. Sigma fought because it was all he had left now…the fight, and his hatred for X and Zero.

            And as to why Zero himself fought…The Crimson Hunter shrugged and shook his head. Perhaps it was because that was what he'd been built for. Maybe it was all he could do in life. Destroy things. 

            He could never forgive himself for the deaths of Colonel, of Iris…

            _But you still fought them. One was a good friend, and you loved the other, and yet you still fought them…_

            "Frackit." Zero muttered, turning sideways and shutting his eyes, trying without success to stop the tear that formed in his left optic. "Frackitall."

            He took one last look at Cain's grave, then turned about and walked back towards the main building. 

            Wherever Zero's answers lay, they weren't here. He'd have to find them for himself this time.

            Everything was changing now.

            Everything.

            Sigma had awoken to unbelievable news when his six Maverick Generals returned. News of their most recent attack…and the unbelievable victory, however slight it was.

            Despite the fact that Shell Butane and Cumulus Bull and Dash Blade had all been badly damaged, they'd made it back. Kazok Gravor had faced Mega Man X himself…and somehow won. Kazok had mentioned how his armors had seemed to flicker and then vanish…And how all of X's boasting about the Retribution's attack power had led to nothing. Through luck, through skill…but mostly through dumb luck, Sigma corrected himself, they had claimed victory, and put one of the two deadliest Maverick Hunters out of commission. And this defeat, so soon after the loss of James Cain…

            Sigma sat back in the massive chair designed for his new battle body, head set on his fist in thought.

            _Amazing how fate seems to conspire against us. He thought drily. __The great James Cain, father of the reploid race, dead by a simple aneurysm…a stupid medical defect in his weak and pathetic organic body that effectively blew his brains out._

            Sigma had been created by Cain himself. He wasn't just some reploid run off of an assembly line and left to fend for himself in the world…he'd been Cain's ultimate reploid creation. Built with the best knowledge and equipment of the day, he was supposed to be flawless. And surrounded by those pacifistic twerps Cancer and X…Well, even when the Maverick Hunters were created, fate should never have brought about the First Uprising, and his going Maverick.

            The years were hard on Sigma. Hard on his memory, on the shreds of personality that had survived X's Electric Spark barrage on the night of June 19th, 2118. Shreds of personality that had been transferred first to Vile's final backup measure, Forever Sigma-- and then to wherever the wind took him, when Sigma became nothing more than a free-floating program, his personality and spirit now forever intertwined with a program that would one day be known as The Maverick Virus.

            He should have died a long time ago, and yet he never did. He never could. In the end, all he had left was his anger, his thirst for cold-blooded vengeance. Time had no meaning for Sigma anymore. It was nothing but prolonged blurs…and intense battles with the man in blue and the man in red.

            _In the end…who's to say who the villain is…_

            It had all begun somewhere. Something had caused Sigma to go Maverick.

            More precisely, someone. 

            Despite all of Cain's hard work, all his innovations, the one element he could never have predicted, never have prepared for was the final brainchild of a madman whose age had long ago ended.

            Wily. The great human menace of the age of robots. From 2070 to 2085, he had brought blights upon the world that were almost unparalleled. Nobody would ever know what madness or genius ran through that skull of his. Because he'd simply vanished…like Light and the original Mega Man and all the others…they had all just vanished.

            The War of 2090 had erupted because of the world's tensions. Put on high alert from Wily's unceasing escapades, they turned to old conflicts, old vendettas. And nearly recreated the Wars of 2040. But something stopped them then. The sudden realization of the madness they would inflict again.

            _Humans…stupid, pathetic, imperfect, violent creatures.__ They consider us to be the menace?? They think we're the real enemy? Fools. Even if they win, even if every last reploid on Earth is wiped out…they'll still have themselves. _

            And yet, it hadn't ended there. The world stopped itself short of destruction…created the GDC, and the AmeriCanadian Alliance was formed. Humanity settled down for an era of peace, an era of docility.

            As if that would last.

            Sigma turned his dark brooding eyes to the ceiling, and the steadily glowing low-powered neon light there.

            _I didn't have even this much light the first time that Zero and I met…_

            Light had built X. And somehow…as if Wily could not stand to let there be a Mega Man in an age without his influence, the wild haired freak had built his own next-generation robot. 

            Zero.

            It wasn't until the Second Uprising that Sigma realized Zero's true origins…not as a mere Maverick who had almost destroyed him, only to be defeated in a massive turnabout…but as the Prime Maverick. The original carrier of the Maverick Virus. 

The X-Hunters, Serges, Agile and Violen had recaptured Zero's body back from the MHHQ after losing him in battles with a furious Mega Man X. In an attempt to overwhelm Zero, turn him over to their side, make him a full borne Maverick under his control, Sigma had sent in his core program to infiltrate Zero's systems, reprogram him and his memories.

            _But I couldn't._

_            Zero's systems resisted Sigma's control. They would have deleted the Maverick Leader, had he not pulled back in time. And still, he saw into those glitched memories of Zero…archived records that could never be seen in the waking world, could never be accessed by conventional means. _

            It was then that Sigma had seen who Zero's creator was. All else just fell into place after that.

            _All these years…it should have been X fighting Zero. Not X and Zero working together to fight me._

_            Fate, destiny…no clear path ever existed. Time and circumstance bent them, twisted them, altered them into something completely different._

            But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was the next battle.

            So Sigma picked himself up from his desk, and walked out to the underground bases' main lounge.

            "He just surprised me, that's all." Dash muttered ashamedly. From his corner of the lounge, Kazok shook his head.

            "Yeah? And what if Zero hadn't felt like using you as a bargaining chip, huh Dash? What if he'd decided to go all the way, and reclaim the title of bloodiest Maverick Hunter?" The leader of the six Mavericks sighed and walked over, letting one of his gravicrystals rotate on top of his head full of short black hair. "But you learned, right?"

            "Yeah. He has a pretty nasty set of plasmic explosives tucked away." Dash growled. She clenched a fist up and popped out her right hand's TitaniTefloAlloy claws. "And the next time he tries using them, I'm not giving him a second chance."

            "That's good to know." Came a new voice. Kazok and Dash turned about as Sigma walked in, his face a mask of determination and unsmiling grit. "Where are the others?"

            "Above ground." Kazok chirped. "Training some more." Sigma blinked once.

            "And Iris?"

            "Last time I checked, she was taking a nap." Dash offered helpfully. The massive Maverick leader mused over the tidbit before nodding his massive bald head.

            "Head above and join with the others. It's time for our next mission." 

            "Our?" Kazok asked, mystified. Sigma nodded.

            "Our mission. This time, I'm coming along for the ride. And so is Iris." Then Sigma turned about and walked out of the lounge, leaving Kazok and Dash alone once more.

            "So…he's finally going to bring himself into this battle." Kazok said. 

            "Do you have any idea what he's up to this time?" Dash asked. 

            The leader of the six shrugged and pulled back his gravicrystal, placing it on its recharge slot and shutting it down.

            "Whatever it is, it's something big. After nullifying an entire Hunter Unit, and bringing down X…" Kazok's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "It's going to be dangerous." He turned his gaze into Dash's eyes. "Dash, this is twice now I've had to bring you back with battle damage. Promise me that this time…this time you'll try to make it back in one piece, all right?"

            "I try every time…"

            "PLEASE, Dash." Kazok pleaded. "I don't want you dying on me."

            The comment rang through the air like a stone hitting silent water. Finally, Dash blinked, forcing her suddenly unresponsive voicebox to reply.

            "All right." She croaked. A frown and a cough later, her voice was stronger. "All right, I'll be more careful. But don't you go offering objectives you don't intend to keep yourself, Grave Boy." Kazok offered a reassuring smile.

            "Dash, you and I don't think the same. You go in with all guns blazing…my style is to sit back and let my opponents reveal their openings."

            "The silent observer, waiting for the right moment?" Dash asked, lifting an eyebrow. Kazok nodded. "Well, just don't be too inactive, Kazok…otherwise, some day you'll find the moment will have already passed you by, because you spent too much time waiting for it to come."

            Dash flicked the tip of Kazok's nose and walked out of the lounge. And as Kazok followed, he shrugged her words off. No, a moment like that would never come.

            He was too careful to be stunned by such an obvious mistake.

            The Second Rainbow's headquarters had offered nothing. It had become little more than yet another one of the world's tourist attractions, Bristol had found much to her dismay. She'd warped off to Juneau to collect her thoughts.

            So much of it sat devastatingly close to her waking mind, yet remained just out of reach. Sighing, she rubbed at her sore temples and recalled everything she'd learned.

            _Where to begin, eh __Bristol__? _

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she'd never find her forgotten past. And yet from nothing, she'd come so far…

            It had begun when she went with X's Hunters Unit to Washington D.C. in the massive conflict now called "Sigma's Sixth". She'd wandered off with a few others into the city itself, separating themselves from the main force. 

            The main force had been annihilated, caught in a trap set by the ruthless Sigma himself. Bristol had done her part, and made it into the streets, and ended up stopping more than one trigger happy Maverick loner.

            And then she'd met him. Or as her scrambled memories might infer, she met him again.

            Emilius Cristoph. The GDC representative of the AmeriCanadian Alliance, and one of the most influential men in the organization. In his time, he'd served on the Cornus Island emergency council, instilled the base charges against the entire reploid race that set the stage for the World Trial of 2124…

            And less publicly known, yet somehow true by her memories, was that Cristoph was a card carrying member of the hidden organization of MI9.

            MI9 itself was a branch-off of the Second Rainbow. A splinter faction that dropped into hiding, and didn't show up in any records anywhere in the world. For all purposes, it didn't exist. And yet Bristol knew it existed. Her memories, however fragmented they were…had to be true.

            But why did MI9 exist…and why were Bristol's memories of it so beyond her reach?? Somehow, she knew they were there. Internal systems checks revealed a substantial block of her memory held data…data that was unrecoverable, unreadable.

            "The entire reason I went on this trip was to stop myself from going insane." Bristol mumbled, shaking her head. "And still it stays beyond me." 

            Her hand snaked down into her coat pocket and retrieved the locket within. She snapped it open and looked inside…to Bastion's face.

            "Cheer up, luv." She said sadly. "When all this is done with, you can go back to him." She snapped it shut, then held it in her hand for a moment longer. She could draw strength from that in her never-ceasing quest…the belief that in enough time, it would all fall together.

            That's what gave her enough incentive to push on. She checked her beam saber underneath the sleeve of her long coat one last time, then walked on through the streets of Juneau.

            Just another face in a world full of faces.

            "This is a pretty sweet setup you guys have here." Wycost said, blinking behind his blatantly opaque sunglasses. Allegro looked over from his workstation and microscope to look at Wycost, standing just outside the sliding glass doors on the side of J.K. Horn's island house.

            The ex-URFAWP recruit gave a dry smile and shrugged, turning back to the chip under the scope and his nano-soldering unit.

            "It works for the most part. We can get a lot more done, without the bureaucratic nonsense…"

            "I'm familiar with that little detail." Wycost deadpanned. He folded his arms and sighed. "Most everywhere I've been surrounded by's been swallowed by chains of command and triplicate. It doesn't do much to help things run smoothly."

            "So naturally, we avoid that as much as we can here." Horn replied, walking into the room with yet another one of his tropical drinks in hand. He lifted his glasses up into his tousled gray hair and shrugged. "Well, it's been a day now, and we've made very little progress indeed with your friend."

            "She isn't a friend." Wycost chirped, eyes narrowing behind his permanent eyescreen. "She's a Maverick. She killed humans in cold blood, and with utter delight."

            "So you've told us…" Horn muttered weakly, shaking his head. "Is she one of Sigma's?"

            "I'm afraid not." Wycost replied. "Bastion told me Sigma's group's been giving them enough problems as it is."

            The mention of his old nemesis's name brought a flash of anger and fear to Horn's normal eye before it returned to normal and he shrugged.

            "I'd heard old man Cain kicked the bucket. What's been happening?"

            "The GDC sent in a lapdog to replace Cain…some fool by the name of Signas."

            "Signas…" Allegro whispered, looking back up from his work. He turned to them, a calm about him. "Sounds an awful lot like Sigma, doesn't it?" 

            "Doubtful…" Horn said, scratching at his head. "And get back to work, Allegro. Doan's Archangel wings aren't going to make themselves."

            "What?" Wycost asked suddenly, lifting his glasses up and blinking at the two. "Since when did Doan enlist you guys into making a set of Flight wings?"

            "Since he got jealous of Bastion's, most likely." Horn said with a small smile. He turned to Allegro. "Well?"

            "Sure, give me the delicate part of the project that requires the microscope…" Allegro groused, but dropped back to his work. Horn motioned for Wycost to follow, and then walked back from the direction he came.

            "I've heard about this Signas of yours." Horn said absentmindedly. As he stepped through the doorframe from his houses' main interior to the expansive section dedicated to his laboratories, he reached over to a coat rack and plucked up a white lab coat, slipping it on in one swift movement. "Real sharp shooter in the GDC. A reploid created for the sole purpose of being, for all purposes, a brain." He looked to Wycost. "Funny how many different types are built…larger, bulkier reploid models with massive strength are usually given a somewhat less than on par intelligence. Likewise, reploids made for thinking aren't given Herculean strength. Too much of a danger for them to wager on, I suppose."

            "So what about us stuck in the middle?" Wycost countered. Horn mulled over the thought for a moment and shrugged.

            "You mean, those of us who have a little of each? I suppose there lies a true danger…But in any case. Yes, I know who Signas is. During URFAWP's short-lived lifespan, I had to meet him on many occasions. He always came off as cold…intelligent, a true intellectual, but utterly cold and devoid of spirit." He shook his head. "The GDC knew what they were doing when they made Signas. They made a reploid with immense intelligence…but no soul to use it. He's for all purposes, nothing more than a puppet. Even a robot." 

            "Well, that's flawed logic." Wycost snorted. "If they wanted a robot, why didn't they make a robot?"

            "Because some of Signas's decisions conflicted with human life." J.K. Horn answered drily, shuffling around in his lab coat's left pocket for something. "And if he was a robot, then the mere prospect of bringing harm to humans would cause him to fritz out…perhaps even die. We reploids aren't as restrained by the Laws of Robotics like robots are…thus, the decision to have their lapdog be a reploid is easy to understand."

            He found the device he was looking for and lifted it to the ceiling, pushing one of several buttons that glowed in the dim light.

            Wycost had to drop his glasses back down to avoid the glaring halogen lights that flashed into existence. Horn merely blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted…even his robotic one.

            "And then we come to the ultimate topic of the day…" Horn said calmly, stuffing the lab remote back in his coat pocket and then placing his hands in his pockets after that. "What to do about your friend Willow."

            The two of them looked down on her sleeping form, her bright red hair strung out underneath her head as she slept the day away, oblivious to watching eyes. 

            "Well, I'll tell you this much, dear friend of Bastion's." Horn commented, reaching next to Willow for the datapadd recording her vitals. He punched a few buttons, yet kept talking. "Willow is for all purposes, a true enigma. Her stomach wound I was able to fix. It was messy of course…haven't seen a deep beam saber gash yet that wasn't…but that's far easier to deal with than reanimating a reploid. But what puzzles me is the aspects of her that weren't damaged."

            Wycost said nothing, allowing the elderly looking Horn to continue talking. Of course, he smirked a bit when he realized that despite how old he LOOKED, he was no older than himself. With proper care and maintenance, reploids could live for a very very long time. What physical form they chose or were given didn't change that. Although it could affect personality.

            "She came in here with her battle armor. So naturally, I figured once her recovery process was going along smoothly, I'd examine some of her weaponry." He pointed to the strange pair of jutting cylindrical vents on each of her arm gauntlets. "These I've been able to identify…They're used to launch medium range plasmic explosives. Only go about three quarters of a klick, but what these things offer is punch. Think a plasma supershot, with the same attack power dispersed over an area of about two to two hundred feet, if need be."

            "And they also do one hell of a job at blinding somebody." Wycost rasped. Horn looked at him oddly, and the ex-Hunter shrugged. "Willow and I have crossed paths before yesterday. Some of our meetings weren't exactly happy ones."

            "I see." Horn mumbled, rubbing at his chin. He set the datapadd down and handed Wycost the silvery cylinder lying on a nearby table. "Then perhaps you can tell me about this little beam saber. I can't quite get the thing to work, honestly."

            "It's no beam saber." Wycost corrected him, narrowing his eyes at the thing and running his eyes over it. "No, it's more along the lines of a beam whip."

            "Beam whip?!" Horn exclaimed, lifting an eyebrow. "I don't recall hearing about something like that being developed."

            "No, you wouldn't." Wycost said, bringing the object closer to his face. His eyes shrunk to mere pinpoints as he kept talking. "In my line of work, I've seen pretty much everything. Beam weaponry so far has seen sabers, lances, daggers, tri-daggers, claws, staffs, and even fired waves of unstoppable shredding energy…but beam whips were considered impractical by every report I was able to lay eyes on."

            "And somehow, this Willow person of your acquaintance managed to build one?"

            "Yes." Wycost replied, opening his eyes wide for a moment. "Have you got a very bright desk lamp somewhere about here?" 

            Horn's response was another button push on his lab remote, which caused a massive light and focusing mirror to descend from the ceiling next to Wycost. The Hunter looked over to the engineer, who shrugged sheepishly.

            "Something I use for delicate micro-work." 

            "Whatever. Look here." Wycost sighed, putting Willow's weapon underneath the lamp. Horn peered over and followed Wycost's gaze…and somehow, through all the shimmering brilliance of the chrome finish, managed to find a set of narrow lines, ingrained into the handle…

            "Hey, that looks like…"

            "The activation switch." Wycost affirmed. He pulled the object away and set his fingers on it, shrugging when he got no result. "This thing has electrical pathways set into the handle where her fingers would rest…only her fingers. I think if you examined her digits, you'd find a similar set of circuitry."

            "Goddamn…" Horn exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "That's freaking brilliant. I would never have thought of that."

            "I think I know how she got the whip to work too." Wycost answered, putting the object next to Willow's head and shutting off Horn's worklamp. He lifted his glasses up and looked at Horn with a blank stare. "The concept of a whip using plasma, to create a beam whip, would require that the EM field, the thing that keeps the plasma contained within the so-called 'blade' of the weapon, be flexible. However, rigidity has always been the order of matters. You get somebody experienced enough with a beam saber, they're swinging it in every direction at full tilt, and the field distorts enough because it has a tough time keeping up. If you lose that rigidity, then you lose field composition, and the damned thing's likely to vent plasma on you, maybe even blow your hands off. Every lab report tried to make a beam whip out of one seamless, uncut EM field. Like they were trying to make a longer, wavier beam saber. It just didn't work. But I've seen this thing in action…" Wycost's voice grew quieter, and he shook his head. "Against humans." He shook his head again and continued on, trying to make his voice stronger. "Willow's beam whip doesn't follow the traditional concept. Instead, it relies on an intricate series of interconnected metal links. That's what's inside the shaft of the cylinder. Not an EM field projector and stored dormant plasma. The cylinder holds the links. When the thing was active, every link had a spherical body of green plasma around it…which means that despite the initial lab tests done by Cain Labs, she ignored the seamless 'one field' concept, and gave each link its own EM field projector and plasma supply."

            "Bitchin'." Horn said with a small smile. Wycost looked at him.

            "You know, for a self-proclaimed pacifist, you sure do love weaponry."

            "I don't love what they do." Horn correct the Bronx Bomber. "I love how they're built." 

            "You're a man full of inconsistencies." Wycost grumbled. Horn folded his arms and grinned.

            "Then I guess I'm only human…"

            "Is she all right now?" Wycost asked, brushing past Horn's incongruous statement.

            "Yeah, sure. As far as I can tell, her systems all check out in the green. However, all I can confirm is her internal operations energy and basic physical stats. Everything else is restricted from access."

            "You're kidding me." Wycost said flatly. Horn's blank state told the Bronx Bomber he most definitely wasn't. "Well…when should we bring her back online?" 

            "Tomorrow sounds good." Horn said easily. "It'll give me a chance to get some rest and help Allegro with Doan's project, and it'll give you a chance to get used to all the jet lag."

            "I didn't fly here, Horn." Wycost reminded him. "I warped." 

            "Meanwhile, back at the ranch, your mission is somewhere in the world, no longer being trailed by you…"

            "And not being trailed by Willow either." Wycost stated firmly. "She knows something about Bristol."

            "From what little you've told me about your encounters, it would seem she knows a lot more than 'something'." Horn commented. "Care to rethink that statement?"

            "Oh, for Christ's sake…" Wycost grumbled. "I didn't come here to be badgered about my wording. I came here because I need Willow in one piece for interrogation."

            "Sure it isn't something more?" Horn observed, a thin smile growing on his face. Wycost blinked a few times, confused by his statement.

            "What do you mean?" He asked, surprised his voice came more like a squeak. Horn smirked and shut the room lights off, then walked out, leaving Wycost standing in the dark.

            "I think I know now why you wear those glasses all the time." Julius Kinnian Horn stated, turning about and grinning at the Bronx Bomber again. "Without them, your true feelings are transparent. You like hiding behind that opaqueness, don't you?"

            "You've gone irregular." Wycost murmured in his defense. Yet he still slipped his glasses back on after Horn's comment. 

            Horn sighed.

            "Wycost, let me tell you something I've learned during my life. You can try to hide from your feelings, but it won't work. Eventually, they'll come back. A lot stronger, and a lot more overwhelming. Just don't act surprised when they finally show themselves. There's no denying them then."

            The creator of the now disbanded URFAWP left at that, and yet Wycost remained in the darkness for a few moments longer. Silently blinking behind his glasses, once more hidden in the world of his own mind, his own problems, his own thoughts.

            "He's a funny one for thinking he knows what I'm thinking." Wycost said. "I was with URFAWP for less than a month." 

            He turned to Willow, still lying there. Alive, but asleep. And in that dim light, with only the nearby monitoring devices to watch over her in quiet beeps and tones, he could almost…

            "Forget it." He snuffed, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and looking around. "Nothing more to do here for a while…"

            And then an idea hit Wycost. If there was nothing else to do…

            "Well, it's been a while. Might as well catch up with some of my buddies."

            And so he warped out. With nothing more to do about Willow, and with Bristol still wandering to regions unknown, he was without priorities anymore. Of course, they'd come back.

            They always came back.

            _"What caused the tensions?" The newcomer asked. Pharaoh Man blinked a few times at the question before voicing a response to the only person in the group he didn't know._

_            "Properly enough…it was us." Pharaoh Man uttered, stepping into the light of the Fourth Ring's hallways. "Robots are what caused the inner tensions of the Second Rainbow." The gigantic robot stared at him for a few moments before Sergei Cossack, Pharaoh Man's creator finally spoke up and introduced them._

_            **His name is Duo. An odd name for a robot…then again, Blues, Rock, and Roll are also eclectic titles.**_

_            Pharaoh Man bowed to the lumbering giant and then turned to his creator._

_            "Doctor Cossack, I wish to inform you that Toad Man has finished his patrol of the water treatment facility, with all the processes in the green." __Cossack nodded, and yet Pharaoh Man could not break his gaze from Duo._

_            **There is something about this one I cannot place…but he is most definitely different.**_

_            What was surprising to the Robot Master was that Duo seemed to stare at him with similar interest. It was almost like Duo's eyes were staring right through his turban, laying his every thought and feeling bare for scrutiny. He shrugged off the feeling eventually, though, and then left._

_            And time moved on…_

            "What's happening to him?" Kalinka asked in a fearful whisper. Ring Man stared down at the printouts for several long moments, then turned to her as calmly as he could.

            "His mind is fighting for survival. Your comments triggered his core into self-destruction, by making him think he had broken the Prime Law of Robotics. In effect, mistress, you tried to kill him."

            "But death should be instantaneous…triggering mind freeze is just that!" Kalinka stated in shock. Ring Man nodded, his voice filled with wonder and awe, perhaps some of the first true emotions he'd shown.

            "It should…and yet, for Pharaoh Man that death has not come yet. Somehow, the rest of his mind is ignoring the shutdown command. His pathways, his memories over the years have been changed." Ring Man shook his head. "Pharaoh Man was the first of us to show emotion. He was the first robot that Doctor Cossack modified to be more human. And now, it is those differences that are keeping him alive."

            The nearby monitoring equipment continued to beep, tracking Pharaoh Man's progress. 

            Kalinka looked at them through her puffy eyes. She hadn't slept since Pharaoh Man dropped into his current state of mind, which was a little more than a day now.

            His fingers twitched every now and then, even though his eyes were shut and he wasn't cognizant of anything. 

            Kalinka was sorry. She felt guilty. These robots, no matter how much she hated them, could not hate her back. They could not offer retorts. And they weren't to blame for her life…

            _It's not their fault…God forgive me, I was wrong, I was angry and I was wrong and I said the wrong thing…_

            And the ones who paid for her emotional stupidity…her repressed anger…were the only family she had left.

            Cossack had had Kalinka. And then, like Light, he had made children of metal. The Robot Masters were all she had now. And Pharaoh Man…

            "I'm sorry." Kalinka uttered, looking down at him. "Pharaoh Man, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean what I said, I didn't mean to…" 

            She stopped talking and bowed her head, shaking it. 

            _After everything that's happened…I was saved by a robot. _

_            All her life, Kalinka had existed in a world of disbelief. It was a world with nightmares, and with dreams. And all her life…ever since she'd been brought back to safety by Protoman, she had focused more on the nightmare._

            For the longest time, she had thought robots were the cause of all her woes.

            And it was only now she realized it had nothing to do with them…and everything to do with humans.

            _It was Wily's fault. He kidnapped me. He caused my father to transform into Light's part-time assistant…_

_            She had been wrong. She had been so very wrong. And now someone was paying for her mistakes. One of the few individuals who cared about her._

            "Please, Phare…" She said, nearly heartbroken now, her puffy eyes springing fresh tears. "You've got to live. You've got to pull through this."

            She reached her hands down and clasped it around his own. And yet he could say nothing.

            As Ring Man watched, and the room's diagnostic gear beeped at its own pace, one fact became all too clear.

            They might lose Pharaoh Man…For good.

            "Commander?" 

            Bastion looked up from his stack of reports to the voice that called for him. 

            It was Gavin, of course. 

            "What can I do for you, Gav?" Bastion asked calmly. 

            "I got something you need to take a look at, boss." Gavin chirped, handing over a datapad. 

            'The Desert Angel' grabbed onto it, eager to ignore the paperwork that Signas had assigned them yesterday before the mission on Karashita Tower. Of course, since then Signas had been considerably less of a bother, subdued by Zero's outbursts. If anyone had the balls to tell their new commander exactly what was on their mind, it was Zero. The Zero that relished conflict. The Zero that had saved X's ass more than once throughout the years. The Zero that Mavericks and Maverick Hunters alike almost feared.

            "It's just something that I've been compiling for a while now." Gavin mentioned. "Jad and Kol sort of 'helped' me to do this."

            "Helped?" Bastion queried, lifting an eyebrow. Sheepishly, Gavin shrugged.

            "All right…they forced me to start working on this project." 

            "Hmm." Bastion replied, tapping the activation key and staring at the numbers.

            He only looked at them for a few moments before he set them down and peered up at his second in command. "Not bad…but would you mind telling me what all these reploid deaths should bother me with?"

            "Circumstances of deaths, times, and methods." Gavin uttered darkly. "And if you'll notice one name in particular…Somewhere about Mid-may of this year?"

            "Huh." Bastion harrumphed, picking it back up and clicking it on again. He selected the time bracket Gavin had mentioned…And then promptly looked up again, surprise evident on his face.

            "CANARK?! The same Canark that…"

            "The same one you were sent to keep an eye on back before Sigma's Sixth. The one that almost resulted in your death…were it not for the fact that me, Jad and Kol came by and stopped whoever they were from doing you in."

            "Good grief…you mean all of these dates and reploids…"

            "Were killed in the same fashion. High powered beam blade weapon was jammed through the reploid's skull, turning their control chip into slag, with no chance of revival. The simple fact is you were almost one of those statistics. That was enough incentive to pursue this investigation."

            "Does anyone else know about…this?" Bastion asked, his voice a little more subdued from the sudden shock to his system.

            "Anyone who's bothered to pay attention might. But I doubt they'd know how serious this is." Gavin replied. "In the last three months, there's been over three hundred reploid murders around the globe. Most of the cases involved reploids who were humanoid. Reploids like you and Canark, who looked human enough they might pass themselves off as organics. Supermodels, techs, basic joes, it doesn't matter. They're all killed in the same manner, and they're all forgotten just as quickly. In every case where eywitness reports are possible, friends and coworkers reported how every single one of the murdered reploids was on an even keel. These weren't Mavericks, they were just trying to scrape by. And then boom, out of the blue, something snaps in them that causes intense fear. They go running off, breaking through anything in their path, running around in some desperate attempt to escape…something."

            "Good God." Bastion murmured, shutting his eyes and rubbing them with his fingers. "With everything happening recently, I'd almost forgotten about that." He opened his eyes back up. "Almost. I still remember talking to Canark."

            "Yeah, what did the fellow have to say for himself?"

            "He was freaked. He was terrified. He didn't know what to be afraid of, but he was nonetheless. And then I met who he was afraid of. Two of them, figures of medium build with black tinted beam staffs, running about with pure malevolence in their voices."

            Bastion shook his head. "These were skilled fighters, Gav. They nearly took me down. In two swipes, they'd stuck me in the condition you three found me in."

            "They left because we were coming?" Gavin asked curiously. Bastion nodded grimly.

            "That didn't stop them from killing off Canark, though."

            "Any idea who they were?"

            "For a while there, I thought they were the same twips who had been interfering in our missions. You know, those two mysterious reploids? Later on, I got to find out they were ex-URFAWP. Allegro and Andante. Both of them used black bladed beam staffs…but it wasn't them. Their hatred wasn't on reploids. In the end, it was solely on who they considered to be the new Maverick threat…J.K. Horn and URFAWP." Bastion smiled. "Of course, we remember the ruse that turned out to be. Just Sigma and Fluid Ferret come back from the dead."

            "So they aren't the ones, then…"

            "Allegro and Andante weren't the ones who killed Canark that night. Andante's dead now, he gave his life to save his brother's in Cairo in Sigma's Sixth."

            "So I've got the data this far." Gavin finished calmly. He looked at Bastion. "What are we going to do about it?"

            Bastion stared back down at the datapadd for a long moment, then back at his second in command.

            "This isn't something covered under the directives of the Maverick Hunters, Gavin. Our concern is Mavericks…ensuring that dangerous reploids are seen to and dealt with. But this…This is beyond that."

            "So what is it, then?" Gavin asked coolly. 

            The Desert Angel mulled over it in his mind, then finally shook it.

            "Something that most definitely needs dealing with…" He looked at Gavin. "It's too much of a coincidence. And somehow, I doubt that two people could have done all this by themselves. The times of death sometimes coincide…and no matter how much credence you give their warp generators, there's no way that a pair of murderers can off one reploid in New York, then go to Hong Kong and repeat the process less than five minutes later."

            Gavin remained standing for a few moments longer, then shook his head.

            "So what exactly are we looking at here?"

            Bastion didn't have a chance to reply before somebody came walking through his office door, eyes hidden behind a familiar pair of black sunglasses and a leather jacket hanging loosely over one shoulder to reveal a green T-Shirt underneath.

            While Gavin snorted in surprise and scorn, Bastion had to smile. It had been a long time since he'd seen his old friend and ally in the flesh. However, his smile was temporary as he looked down at his datapadd and remembered Gavin's question.

            His blue eyes went up to stare at Wycost's stubbled features as he uttered two syllables.

            "Trouble."

            The air stank. It stank of clean.

            Not just any clean. The cold and icy smell of germicide, of the strongest soaps and bleaches known to man. Of bitter, heartless walls and empty rooms and freshly recycled patient gowns. 

            This was a place where sickness came. Where sickness was fought. Where it was destroyed. 

            Dully, he could stare ahead with what blurry vision he had. Down a long hallway with chairs on the sides, some empty, and some occupied, wails and moans of the grieving echoing to no end. And he was moving down it.

            _Wait…I'm not walking…_

            He was being pushed along. His head drooped down a bit, and his vision shifted. He could see himself. He could see his hands, lying limp in his lap. They lay on top of one another, and on top of a pale blue cloth gown that barely went down to his knees. Shocked, he tried to move them. Neither limb responded to his pleas.

            _I'm in a wheelchair…Oh, God, I'm in a wheelchair…_

            "Almost there, doc." Came a consoling voice from behind him. A sudden jolt shook the wheelchair, and his head bounced up, allowing him to stare ahead again.

            _Where are you taking me?! Hey…come on, can't you hear me?!_

_            Crestfallen, he realized they couldn't. It scared him now. Before, it had been weird and dismal. Now terror began to fill every crevice of his tortured mind._

            The hallway seemed unending, with doors and chairs lining the sides. From time to time, one of the sobbing, weeping people in the 'death seats' would turn about and stare at him. Stare at him in unbelieving grief and fury. Every time they did, he cringed. Where they sat was where friends and family waited to hear that their loved ones had died. 

            _Just how many times was I forced to come out of those operating rooms…and tell them I had failed to save a person's life?_

_            "It's been a long road, doc." The voice came again. Only now, he seemed to recognize it…familiar, changed…_

            In a sudden blink, they reached the end of the hallway, he was pushed through swinging doors with the creaky wheels of his wheelchair grinding away.

            Strong arms picked him up, lay him flat on a flat, hard…and cold table. 

            _Oh, God no…_

_            A brilliant light from above clicked on, nearly blinding him from the brilliance of the wattage._

            Heads appeared above him. Quietly, they began to speak. To one another, ignoring him. As if he wasn't there, as if he could not speak.

            As if he was dead.

            "So it's finally done with, eh?" Came an old and raspy voice. "I guess in the end, he couldn't even save himself."

            _No…_

            The voices were so hauntingly familiar now, they tore at him…

            "Och, the wee laddie was a few chips short of the fishmeal, that's for certain." Said another, the outline of its face less rounded. The head turned, and the motionless figure nearly screamed.

            He saw a beak.

            "Well Bolt, you're not the only one he failed to save." Came the raspy voice again. The sudden rapping of a walking stick on the tiled floor beneath only confirmed the tormented spirit's guess.

            _No, not Cain…God, I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do…The aneurysm was inoperable…_

_            "He didn't even try." Cain muttered disgustedly. Bolt Eagle harrumphed and folded his arms._

            "The lad was stubborn and stupid. There was more than a few times Storm and I had to charge in and save him because he just wouldn't move." Another figure appeared in the bright light, more lit up than the others.

            It was X.

            "His time's run out." The Blue Bomber of 21XX said wearily. His eyes were cold and biting, looking down into him with more than a trace of disgust. 

            "He's like us now. Old, used, ready for death." Cain uttered slowly. Bolt Eagle nodded and reached for a narrow edged beam saber, igniting it and swinging it down in one fluid motion.

            And he wanted to scream then. He wanted to scream as he felt the angry plasma weapon bite into him…

            Take away his legs…

            "Hey, why did you do that?" X asked, turning with a puzzled stare to Bolt Eagle. The avian reploid's eyes were as hard as diamonds. 

            "Do ye really think he'll be needing them where he's going? He doesn't deserve legs anyhow."

            "His title's Chief Medical Officer." Cain uttered, in that same dead tone that had been used before. "But in the end, he's useless. He can't save lives. And he never could. He's useless."

            "He's useless." Bolt Eagle agreed, in the droning dead tone.

            "He's useless." X uttered.

            _No…no no no no no no no no no…_

_            The voices began to fade out, lose their individuality. And then there was nothing but a single droning word ringing in his ears, even as he screamed and screamed, trying to escape the Hell of his own mind._

            **Useless…useless…useless…**

            Hazil screamed himself awake, his entire body jerking up from his reclining office chair as his pained cries slowly died out.

            His energy gave out and his legs dropped away from underneath him, forcing him to fall back into his seat. And then for several moments, all he could manage was a forced series of gasps, his trembling hands reaching down beneath his stomach…

            "Still there." He croaked, as his hands ran along his legs. "Still there…"

            He shut his eyes for a moment and brought his hands back up, running them past his face and through his grayed hair. The slick fluid his gloved hands dragged along made him realize he'd been crying during that episode.

            "I couldn't save them." He muttered. He summoned enough strength into his trembling limbs to force himself free of his chair and out of his office. That was the truth. Despite the fact it had all just been a nightmare, it had a cause. That cause was his inability to be the healer he always strived to be.

            Bolt Eagle had died on that battlefield years ago. His final words to Hazil were to keep Storm safe.

            As if that had helped. Storm Eagle and Hazil had gone along with Spark Mandrill, leaving behind the world of the British RAF to join with the Maverick Hunters. And months later, Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill had died at X's hands, because the two of them had gone Maverick. He'd failed Bolt Eagle. He'd failed to keep his promise.

            That was where his hair had turned gray. From those early months.

            The years had been hard on Hazil. His only purpose was to protect life, to save wounded comrades, to bring them back from death's door. And yet for every thirty times he succeeded in his task, there were three where he utterly failed.

            Every loss was hard to take. It made his raging alcoholism all the worse, as he'd tried to drown out his sorrows.

            And then Hazil had diagnosed Cain, not with chronic headaches, but with something far worse…the source of what was causing it. An aneurysm buried so deep in his brain that trying to operate on it would almost certainly have turned the benevolent creator of the reploid race into a drooling vegetable. So Hazil did nothing.

            And now Cain was dead, leaving the medical reploid to drink his bitter brew and curse himself for not trying something, ANYTHING, to try and change the dismal events of June 17th. When Cain died.

            "So is that what I am? A failure?" Hazil said bitterly. He reached over to a nearby wall for another bottle of scotch. But his fingers stopped short of it, and then clenched up into a fist, swinging through the bottle and destroying it with a roar of anger.

            _He's useless…useless…_

_            "Shut up. Just SHUT UP." Hazil groaned, clutching at his poor head. "For once, just leave me alone…just leave me alone…"_

            And then they did. But their effect was enough.

            Hazil slumped against the wall of the Medical Bay, trembling as he skidded down the floor. Head in his hands, he found that even when their accusing voices left him alone, the icy fingers of his own guilt would never leave him.

            It was all here. In the Medical Bay of the MHHQ. Hazil could barely remember the last time he'd left it, gone somewhere else. And even then, he hadn't left the building.

            A part of him wanted to drink. Wanted to drink to exhaustion and quiet, mindless slumber. Wanted to just forget about it all.

            And it was becoming harder and harder to ignore that part of his personality ever day. Brushing his hair back, Hazil looked up to the only occupied bed in the entire room. A bed holding the sleeping form of X, his repairs made and recovery program set.

            "All I do is prolong their lives until the next time they throw it into the wind." Hazil said dully. He looked at X again. "Goddamnit all…" 

            Three of X's armor sets were now forever lost to the winds of eternity. Paladin, Retribution, and Golden Hyper were vanished, never to be used or seen again. Of X's armor sets, only one remained. The Force Armor. And that one was locked in program stasis, so it couldn't degrade.

            And yet X couldn't use that set either. Not without losing it.

            He'd nearly died in yesterday's mission. Were it not for a war scarred Zero bringing him back in for repairs.

            The Maverick Hunters were a necessary evil. But no matter how skilled they were, they always ended up coming in. For repairs. For reprogramming. Even for autopsies. 

            "That's all I am." Hazil muttered. "I'm just a mortician with a knack for helping people live longer."

            Maybe he was going insane. Hazil didn't care anymore. He was just tired. Cain had been tired, and he'd died. But Hazil couldn't die as easily as Cain did.

            So he was stuck here. Stuck in the place he'd called home for thirteen years, waiting for a change to come. Any change.

            "X, I am getting Goddamn sick and tired of repairing your sorry carcass, only to have you rolling back in on my doorstep weeks later." Hazil mumbled, letting his head droop between his legs.

            And a sleeping, recovering X could say nothing. But it wouldn't have mattered. All Hazil could hear was the droning beeps and tones of his monitoring equipment.

            And all he could smell was that Godforsaken antiseptic air.

            "My search has reached a bit of a dead end." Wycost noted calmly, although he still refused to raise his sunglasses from his eyes. He'd kept himself garbed in his street clothes, which made him stick out like a sore thumb in the droning masses of armor clad Maverick Hunters running from point to point around the base.

            Bastion walked in front of Wycost a bit, and turned about to lift a worried eyebrow.

            "Bristol's still all right…right? I haven't heard from her since that E-Mail."

            "As far as I know, she's plum and peachy in her search. The only person who seemed to be a considerable threat against Bristol was a fellow femme reploid by the name of Willow. Irish lilt, blazing red hair, green eyes, the works. And Willow's sleeping the day away back at Horn's place."

            "Then she's…" Bastion began warily.

            "Fraid so." Wycost finished for him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "She's that Maverick, all right."

            "But you didn't kill her." Bastion pointed out, narrowing his eyes. Wycost shrugged.

            "It's because of something Isaiah told me recently. What's worse than a Maverick?"

            "Isaiah died." Bastion stated flatly.

            "Tell that to his ghost." Wycost murmured back. He rubbed at his head. "And while you're learning about my sources, let's also include the closet psychic pal of mine in Hong Kong."

            "And you're sure that something in your mind hasn't snapped?" Bastion asked back. Wycost finally lifted his glasses and gave Bastion a look that made the Hunter wish he hadn't bothered to say the question. "Sorry." Shrugging, Wycost dropped his glasses back down.

            "Willow and Bristol are connected somehow. And I'm going to figure out where Bristol's headed off to next, even if I have to beat the answers out of that renegade."

            "So until then, you're doing what exactly? Reliving old memories?"

            "There are a few loose ends to wrap up around here. And I figured I'd check in on Doan." 

            "Not if I check in on you first." Came a new voice to the conversation. Despite his grim mood, Wycost had to smile as the crowd parted and his old friend walked towards them, a less grim look on his face. Which for Doan was akin to a very powerful smile.

            The two friends shook hands, and eventually a smirk graced Doan's face.

            "A smirk now, is it? Damn, we're making progress with you." Wycost joked. 

            "You'll find there's very little to joke about around here anymore." Doan uttered back, his small grin vanishing completely. Wycost turned to Bastion, face stone.

            "Well, I know Cain's dead and we got ourselves a GDC flunkie in his spot. What else hit the fan while I was gone?"

            "The new batch of Mavericks challenged X and Zero to attack Karashita Tower and defeat them. X went alone…ended up losing his first three armor sets and getting his ass kicked. Zero managed to drag him back before they could do him in."

            "That doesn't sound like the X I know." Wycost muttered.

            "Everything's changing around here, Wycost." Bastion affirmed sadly. "Even the people."

            Wycost absorbed it in stride, his own response to the newest grim details hidden behind his glasses.

            "What hasn't changed, then?" He asked meekly. Doan's eyes were hard as pinpricks when he replied.

            "The danger." Something seemed to click in Doan's mind, and he continued on, a little less angrily. "Say, I heard you mention something about J.K. Horn. You visited him recently?"

            "I just came from there." Wycost replied. Doan nodded.

            "Cleo told me that the flight wings she'd been working on were sent to Horn for some proofing and new insight."

            "Those were yours?" Wycost commented. "Yeah, Allegro was working on it when I was there. If you want, I can drag you back with me."

            "I might have to take you up on that." Doan answered back.

            And then the time for small talk ended. Every klaxon in the MHHQ seemed to go off, in a particular drone that even Wycost could understand from his time spent in the Hunters.

            "Looks like the Mavericks are placing a call with us." Wycost observed grimly.

            "I hope they dialed CALL-ATT." Doan shot back.

            "Wycost, you wanna come with us to the War Room?" Bastion asked. "Maybe you could…"

            "I'm retired." Wycost interrupted firmly. "Sure, I'd be more than happy to join you guys for the ride, but if you want to ask me to throw myself into the maelstrom again, that one I'll have to refuse." Bastion coolly absorbed the comment, then shrugged and turned to Doan.

            "This sound familiar?"

            "It sounds about right, given his new philosophy. Preserving life instead of taking it." Doan uttered back, never once glancing away from his longtime friend.

            _"All Unit Commanders and A or above ranked Hunters to the War Room. All others, report to your duty stations."_

_            The synthesized voice rang out, causing Wycost to cringe. Too many times he'd heard that call. Or ones similar to it. _

            "Well, I see Signas left the auto-paging system intact." He noted before running down the hallway. Bastion and Doan ran alongside him, their minds not on Wycost's comments anymore, but on the mission yet to be faced.

            Wycost had to shake his head.

            For everything that HAD changed…

            There was still so much that hadn't.

            The crew in the War Room, which included Zero, Signas, and the Unit Commanders and A and above ranked Hunters, was large enough to fill it to crowding. Enough so that those Hunters who were able to fly were forced to go airborne for breathing room.

            Signas calmly observed the masses, no longer the commanding authority he had been. X's defeat, and Zero's own actions from the day before had cowed him. Now his stance was a little more conservative. A part of Zero's ranting had clicked home.

            Signas may have had experience with bureaucracy, but he had no combat experience. And no previous employment where he was the leader of a bunch of combat-crazed warriors. Cain had. And obviously, the GDC reploid had a lot to learn about his new job. For now, though, there was little time for apology.

            He tilted his head around the room, frowning as he spotted a lone figure in the masses that was out of place. Wearing sunglasses, a green T-shirt and a black leather jacket with blue jeans, he looked more like an observer than a Maverick Hunter.

            "Pardon me, stranger. May I ask what you are doing here?"

            Commander Bastion of the 21st began to speak, but the newcomer with his short black hair lifted his arm in front of Bastion and stopped him. Coldly, the stranger turned his gaze to Signas, his eyes boring into the new Maverick Hunter Commander with frigid acceptance.

            "Wycost. Ex-Maverick Hunter. I worked for Bastion."

            Something in that stare, even masked as it was behind those sunglasses, told Signas it was best not to push the issue. In fact, it triggered a response…Fear, perhaps? Or intimidation…

            He shook his head. Emotions made one weak. His creators had taught him that. He was a perfect reploid. A reploid without emotions, only actions…

            But look where that had gotten him here.

            "Stay if you like." Signas finally mumbled, reaching over and gingerly pushing the hold button on the command chair to off. Since yesterday, he hadn't felt like sitting in it.

            Every head in the room turned to look at a calmly staring Kazok Gravor, his hair short and well trimmed, his face a mask of indifference. But what caused them to shudder in fear was the figure beside him. A figure that towered above the medium sized humanoid class reploid, who wore a set of blazing red scars over his optics proudly. A figure with a face of disgust, contempt, and bitter hatred.

            "Sigma." Zero spat out. 

            "Well, I see you're still up and around, my dear friend Zero." Sigma said, his face curving into a malevolent smile. "Too bad the same cannot be said of X."

            No other Hunter in the room dared speak. This was a confrontation between the Maverick King and the Crimson Hunter…it was not their right to interfere.

            Signas watched this event with curiosity…he found it amazing that Zero's mere presence could instill such unwavering loyalty in his fellows. Only Wycost folded his arms and seemed to roll his eyes in disgust at the event. Strange one, that Wycost…he would have to ask about him later.

            "Just what are you trying to do, Sigma?" Zero demanded. "Take over the world?!"

            "That particular quest is becoming a little hackneyed for both of our tastes nowadays, isn't it?" Sigma mused. "I recall quite clearly how my last attempt at that went. It FAILED."

            "You're insane."

            "And you're…" Sigma began to retort, but then clamped his mouth shut and smiled darkly. "Oh well, we both know what I was going to say." _And you're the Prime Maverick, the cause of all the world's problems._

            "Bastard." Zero swore under his breath. Sigma either didn't hear the Hunter's comment or chose to ignore it.

            "No, this time about, I'm calling for a simple showdown. You send in the Hunters, I send in the Mavericks, and we wage a massive battle. Sound good enough?"

            "I'll destroy you…" Zero growled. "I'll RIP YOU APART!!"

            "And we all know how much Zero enjoys his daily dose of violence." Sigma retorted drily. "But I doubt even if you succeeded, your victory would be any more permanent than it has been so many times before."

            "I'll never stop fighting you!" Zero shouted. Sigma smiled darkly.

            "Then the war goes on." The Maverick King nodded, and Kazok spoke up.

            "We thought we'd visit an old stomping ground. How does Cornus Island's desert terrain sound to you fellows?"

            "Sounds like microwaved chicken soup. Gritty and unappealing." Zero shot back. "But if that's where you want to die, so be it."

            "Oh, yes, I almost forgot…" Sigma mused humorlessly. "Little Hunter Zero wants to claim revenge for the defeat of his dear friend X…Well, that should certainly make things more interesting." Sigma's face peered closer to the camera he was transmitting, and a bold, brilliant…yet shudderingly cold smile filled the focus. "But let me ask you something, Zero…do you think you're coldhearted enough to defeat us all?"

            The camera blinked out. Signas blinked a few times and turned to Zero.

            "What did he mean by that?" For once, Zero was too preoccupied to tell Signas to stuff it.

            "Sigma loves to play mind games…there's a real genius hidden in all that madness, and he loves to use it. He's trying to psych us out."

            "Sounds like he's winning." Wycost said calmly. Every face in the room turned about in surprise and anger at the comment, yet the Bronx Bomber offered no sign of a retraction or apology.

            "So what would you do, Zero?" Signas queried, putting Zero's decision ahead of his own.

            "We'll go there. We'll go there in full force and we're going to put a stop to this entire stupid mess once and for all." Zero's fist clenched up. "And he is going to pay for what he's done…By my blood, he's going to pay."

            And somehow, as Signas experienced fear again, he knew how very sincere Zero was.

            Kalinka didn't know how long she had been kept in this place. Her watch had been taken from her, although the ugly robots had allowed her to keep the rest of her clothing.

            But not even her fur-lined red coat could long protect her from this place. The robots would bring food and water every so often, yet she could not break the dread they did it out of sick pleasure than an assigned task. The only thing Kalinka found she could do to keep herself busy was sleep. Sleep or go crazy. Ever since that scary man with the wild white hair had ordered his robots to kidnap her, drag her back kicking and screaming.

            _"Why are you doing this?!"__ Kalinka had screamed through her anguished tears, wanting so desperately for it all to be a nightmare…a horrific nightmare that she would wake up from. And yet the evil man had simply smirked with his aged face, stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged her question off as he might reply to the offer of fries with his sandwich._

              _"You're too little to understand these things, dear Kalinka Cossack. I just need your father to do certain things for me…And he'll do them, because I have you."_

              They hadn't bothered to heat her prison cell. The medium sized red one, with some sort of magnet on his head had seemed to smirk the first time she shivered in the dark confines and told them as much with her foggy breath.

            _"Oh, you're not going to need heat. You humans are a wonderful source of the stuff."  _

            And yet all that heat was continually sucked out of her. How long had it been now…She had no window to the world, no way of telling if it was night or day. Just the voices. 

            They'd grown louder for some time now…they were only soothed when Kalinka hummed to herself, rocking back and forth in a fetal position. They clamped around her with icy fingers, denying her the chance to sleep.

            Kalinka shivered again and drew her arms around herself, sneezing involuntarily. The force of it threw her backwards onto the small, inhospitable cot they'd left for her as a bed.

            She didn't even have the energy to groan now. Her humming had vanished away, replaced by the dripping nose, the aching head, the blistering temperature that remained despite the bitter cold of her surroundings.

            Every time she went to sleep, she had prayed to the powers above to take her away…to take her from this place. She remembered the fairy tales her father used to tell her, of princesses who were locked away in dangerous castles…only to be rescued by handsome knights in shining armor.

            Yet they were nothing but fairy tales.

            So Kalinka had thought.

            Until something changed.

            She lay flat on the cot, the last of her energy gone. It was all she could do to stop her eyes from falling shut on her and closing her off in the darkness again.

            Then there were noises. Voices. But different now. They weren't the ones in her mind.

            They came from outside. From outside her cell…

            The sound of a loud blast rang through the corridors. Then another. Cursed mumblings…The sounds of different weapons ringing out. A crackle and whine. More screams…then silence.

            Footsteps came. Kalinka could almost sense the presence of someone outside her cell door. And it creaked open.

            Lying as she was, she couldn't get up. She could only lazily blink with her hazy eyes at the figure that appeared above her…a man in gray and red, with a yellow cloth of some sort waving behind him. He looked scarred, damaged in several places. And then there was his helmet…with a black visor that almost looked like oversized sunglasses. 

            _He was beautiful. _

            "God, what did they do to you?" He muttered in shock, speaking in English. Kalinka could almost sense that he felt her pain. 

            Dully, she blinked a few more times, then opened her mouth to try and speak.

            "You…came to rescue me…like in the fairy tales…" She said it in Russian, and yet the man above her had no trouble understanding her.

            "Like in the fairy tales, _da__." He said back in her native tongue. _

            Kalinka somehow managed to offer a weak smile…and then faded out, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as consciousness slipped away from her.

            Alarmed, Protoman brought a trembling hand down to her swan white neck.

            "Pulse is still there." He finally said to himself in relief. "But it's weak." He picked himself up and looked around, cursing in several different languages. "Wily is going to pay for this." He finished. "I've got to get her out of here. But I can't warp…"

            Shaking his head in disgust, he left the room for a moment. When he came back, his gray had shifted to a dull periwinkle blue, and had turned the red a light purple.

            In one swift motion, he picked Kalinka up in his right arm and slung her over his shoulder. With his other, he formed a Buster and fired away, a piercing blue laser he had Weapons Copied from Gemini Man.

            The stone and steel wall of the cell gave way easily, exposing the room to the bitter howling temperatures of the Siberian wilderness, gusting in with an angry roar. Grimly, Protoman backed off for a moment and let the rubble and smoke clear, letting his Buster fade so he could cradle Kalinka with both arms.

            "It's going to be cold out there, Kalinka." He said, hoping that some part of her spirit could still hear him. "Just please, hold on…You've got to hold on for me." He almost insisted upon it, so tense was his voice.

            He noticed how she shivered in the biting cold, as the large snowflakes from his escape exit began to pelt both her and himself as well. Without a second thought, he pulled off his somewhat damaged yellow bandana and wrapped it around her neck. It was almost long enough to be a scarf…maybe some day from now, he'd wear one of those instead. But for now, she needed her body heat. Every last calorie of it. It was going to be a very long trek through the Siberian wilderness from Wily's hidden Skull Castle to Cossack's Citadel.

            Blues just hoped he would make it, in time to save Kalinka, and in time to stop Mega Man from doing something the Blue Bomber might very well regret.

            And then the klaxons of Skull Castle began to wail. Protoman's escape attempt had already been discovered…probably from the hull breach. Damn Wily for sticking the prison barracks right in the outermost section of the First Ring…

            "No time for second thoughts." He muttered to himself. Gritting his teeth against the cold, and the trials yet to come, he cradled Kalinka close to his chest, her face held away from the icy wind. And then he jumped out of the side of the Castle, and hit the massive snow covered mountain it sat upon.

            And then he ran. Ran for the life of an innocent human girl who had become nothing but a pawn in Wily's sick game…and for the life of the knight who the evil king held under his power.

            Slowly, the klaxons faded from earshot. And all Blues could hear was the roar of the Siberian blizzard.

            "How's he doing?" Bright Man queried, his voice a little quieter as he approached the corner of the Fourth Ring they'd set aside for Pharaoh Man.

            "His mind's blinking." Ring Man said. "That's all I can think of to describe it."

            "Blinking, eh?" Bright Man replied calmly. But even though his voice remained unchanged, his almost cartoonish optics revealed a hint of sadness. 

            "His mind is fighting against the core. The core's already destroyed itself, the part of his mind dedicated to the Three Laws is gone. Only the final command it issued remains, and it's trying to force itself throughout his mind. But he's fighting it, Bright. He's FIGHTING IT." Ring Man's voice fell into awe, and he shook his head. "He shouldn't be able to. He should be dead. There shouldn't be any way for him to avoid falling victim to mind freeze…"

            "I can believe a part of it." Bright Man said, a little stunned as well. "Remember? Doctor Cossack always said that Pharaoh Man was different. It was Pharaoh Man who he gave the optional equipment to in 2090. It was Pharaoh Man that was Cossack's own exercise, not in the next generation of robotics…but the evolution of the current one."

            "It's unbelievable." Ring Man said again. "And do you know how he's doing it?" Bright Man looked blankly at his comrade, and Ring Man continued on. "He's overloading his brain. He's keeping every pathway so busy with information that the shutdown command from the Law core CAN'T GET THROUGH. Memories, flashbacks, even physical stimuli commands…Pharaoh Man may be unconscious, but his desire for self-preservation is most definitely not taking a vacation. Good memories, bad memories, it doesn't matter. Pharaoh Man's driving himself mad in an attempt to save his life."

            "And what if he succeeds?"

            "He's broken into a stalemate." Ring Man re-emphasized, his wonder fading away into dismal truth. "To win, his mind needs to completely annihilate the shutdown command. Overwhelm it. Negate it, somehow…"

            "Overriding a command that serious…it's illogical. He can't do it."

            "A robot couldn't do it, no." Ring Man muttered. "You couldn't do it. I couldn't do it."

            The two looked down at Pharaoh Man's face, noticed a tear begin to form in the corner of his eye. That was one of the enhancements Cossack had given Pharaoh Man in 2090. Improved facial expression…and artificial tear ducts.

            "But Pharaoh Man is something more now. He might have become different enough…human enough…to find acceptance in the illogical." Ring Man said hopefully. Gingerly, he reached a gloved finger down and wiped the tear away from his comrade's face.

            "I just hope there's enough left of him to qualify as a success…" He turned and looked to Kalinka, partially slumped onto Pharaoh Man's bed as she sat in the chair beside him. "Otherwise…"

            He didn't bother to finish the thought.

            It was too much for his poor brain to handle. Thinking of how harmed Kalinka might be if Pharaoh Man didn't pull through.

            For Sigma, this was a homecoming of sorts.

            Cornus Island remained unchanged by the Second Maverick Uprising. It had been reclaimed by the GDC forces and life had gone on there as if nothing had happened. Of course, there was no more ICBMs to deal with. That was the only change.

            The current Maverick philosophy was 'all for one'. The last time Mavericks had held stead on Cornus, they'd divided their forces into eight groups and taken over key points. This time about, there was no grand objective. Sigma didn't mean to imitate his previous strategies, the strategy followed by Serges and the X-Hunters who had taken over for him after his crushing defeat on June 19th, 2118, up until they all died at X's hands and it was once again just Sigma. The pathetic cripplings who ran this island could keep it. That didn't concern Sigma. No, he would return for them later, when it was more convenient.

            X was out of the fight for now. A grimfaced Sigma folded his arms and looked over the quiet sand dunes of Cornus's northwest section. Lots of memories.

            In a way, Cornus Island and Laguz Island from the Erasure Incident of 2128 were remarkably similar. Both were in the Pacific Ocean, in the so-called 'Ring of Fire'. Both had been created after the Wars of 2040 by massive volcanic activity. And both had been of critical strategic importance, and a thorn for the Hunters.

            Of course, no Maverick with him could remember that. The Mavericks who had been there were dead now, dead and atomized and lost. Only Sigma, the Maverick King, he mused bitterly, had survived. Because his core program would not let the fight end. Would not let the madness stop.

            Kazok Gravor walked up to Sigma expectantly before offering a perfunctory salute. Sigma nodded back easily, still lost in his own thoughts.

            "Sir, what's the plan exactly?"

            "Simple, Kazok." Sigma rumbled. "This is a fight with the Maverick Hunters alone. The GDC will not involve themselves in this one. As far as they're concerned, yes we're a threat, but we're not threatening them directly." He turned about and swept his arms at the massive structure buried underneath tons of dirty silicate. "Every facility on Cornus Island is in a different location. We're occupying a long since abandoned base that they didn't feel like tearing down. Too costly, perhaps, for their penny pinching budgets."

            "This place was built as a missile silo." Kazok observed.

            "When it was owned by the United States, prior to the AmeriCanadian Alliance and the formation of the GDC, yes." Sigma said easily. "I know what you're thinking. Why bother ourselves with this place? It has no missiles. No weapons of mass destruction we can hurl off to places of the globe in some defiant set of screams."

            "It had crossed my mind." Sigma's Maverick Leader answered drily. "But I imagine you have some perfect plot."

            "I mean to draw them here…The Maverick Hunters." Sigma said icily. "You have eliminated an entire Hunter Unit on your own. You've infiltrated a GDC Armory. And you have even brought down Mega Man X…who without his fantastic armors is as weak as a newborn puppy." He snapped his fingers, then rubbed them together. "The Hunters are done playing around, you see. They know this is one situation they can no longer afford to pussyfoot with. So they will send their best. They will send the elite Units, they will send the elite Hunters. They will send the Crimson Hunter himself…Zero." Sigma's eyes seemed to glint in anticipation as he said that final name, and it didn't go unnoticed by Kazok. 

            "You want them to come." Kazok observed. Sigma smiled.

            "You wanted HIM to come yesterday, didn't you?"

            "There's a fine line between combat and masochism, Sigma." Kazok answered back. Sigma shrugged.

            "Well, do as you will. I expect the Maverick Hunters to arrive within minutes. Your task, my dear Kazok, is to guard the front gates, as it were. Take the rest of your team and spend your time doing what you do best. Making Maverick Hunters very unhappy."

            "And what about your grand plans for taking our race into the new age? Of creating a world for reploids?"

            "That is secondary." Sigma noted, surprising Kazok. As if to quell the rising doubts in the Maverick's black head of hair, he held a hand in front of him. "Let me use an analogy. A bricklayer cannot make his bridge if the troll keeps destroying it. What we intend to do in these next critical days is to DESTROY the Maverick Hunters. Now is the perfect time to strike. James Cain, their most steadfast supporter is dead from a brain aneurysm. X is stuffed somewhere, recuperating from his grievous injuries. The Hunters themselves lie under new management, are under the hawkish eyes of an organization that would as soon end their existence for failing, despite the obvious consequences. If we eliminate the Maverick Hunters, then we eliminate the only force on Earth capable of stopping us. Once the Hunter roadblock has been removed, every other objective follows through with ease." Sigma looked at Kazok fiercely. "Now do you understand?"

            "Well, that explains the why. But you've yet to elaborate on the how. Just where are you going to be while me and my squad are busy keeping the Hunters occupied?"

            "Waiting for Zero, inside this rotting corpse of a building." Sigma pulled the dark red cape closer in around himself and turned about, heading for the dark interiors and its many abandoned rooms. "Trust me, he'll find a way in. He'll come looking for me."

            "You sound way too sure of that." Kazok answered warily. "How can you be sure?"

            Sigma stopped his slow gait and stood there for a moment. Almost as an afterthought, he turned his head slightly around so that one glaring red eye could stare over his shoulder at the cocky Kazok Gravor.

            "You're young, and despite your skills, inexperienced. So I'll let your insolence pass. But know this, Kazok. Zero and I have been playing this game since before the First Maverick Uprising began. And when you've been playing as long as we have, it's not a matter of if or how your foe will come for you. It's a matter of when."

            Calmly, Sigma swirled his blood red cape closer about himself and walked into the shadows of the abandoned desert base. Kazok had to shake his head before he could head back to his fellows.

            It was no wonder this madman had inspired so many to follow him. In the end, he'd even somehow managed to rope in Kazok as well…

            And they didn't wait long.

            Watching with open, if not alert eyes, Kazok and his five comrades watched the skies part open as scores of blinding beams descended upon the dunes. In a blink, they reformed. Revealing not members of the GDC…but Maverick Hunters.

            All Maverick Hunters. All of them the cream of the crop, the top ranks.

            And leading them was a Hunter in red, with blazing green eyes and a fiery brush of blond hair behind him.

            Shell, Cumulus, Dolph, and Burst all looked ready and eager to fight. They only waited for Kazok's signal, never once letting their wide cheery eyes leave the massing forces beyond them. Kazok curled his lip up in mild scorn. Like children looking at their Christmas presents.

            Dash growled and popped her TitaniTefloAlloy claws.

            "This time, it's going to be worlds different." She muttered with a small feline snarl. 

            Somehow, Kazok's hand found its way to her shoulder and stayed there for several seconds.

            "Let's just remember one very important thing here, people." Kazok said loudly enough for all to hear. However, his eyes were locked with Dash's. "Let's all make it back alive."

            Dash's unwavering eyes said volumes to Kazok's troubled heart. 

            _I won't leave you behind._

            And that gave the worried Maverick strength enough to move on. 

            The Hunters beyond began whooping, then charged as one massive force. Some flew, some dashed. Others warped. It didn't matter. They all came.

            And they would all lie wounded by the battle's end.

            "For someone supposed to be free of emotions, you sure do look flustered." Wycost forwarded, going to stand beside Signas in Cain's command chair. Signas blinked a few times before turning back down to look at the Bronx Bomber in his street gear. Wycost looked back up at him, eyes still hidden behind those glasses of his.

            "Things are not progressing as smoothly as I would like them to." Signas finally admitted. Wycost folded his arms and whistled a bit, then shook his head.

            "And you expected them to? Look, I haven't had the chance to work with you. I never will. But I can tell you what things were like around here before you showed up."

            "You mean, when Cain was alive." Signas echoed. He shook his head. "It's amazing how much respect and trust he garnered from the Hunters in his time."

            "Cain was our guardian angel." Wycost said simply. "We were here to stop the Mavericks. But we couldn't stop the bureaucrats. The GDC loved nothing better than to feck with us almost every year or two, to try and tell us to use 'more humane methods' or to 'spend less money'. Cain was our interceptor. While we busied ourselves with the real task, kicking ass, he made sure that no ass-kissing politicians got to mess us up because they wanted to get re-elected. And you, Signas, come from that most hated organization. So naturally, you're already ten steps behind go. And two hundred dollars short."

            "I don't catch your analogy." Signas said, slightly puzzled. Wycost drew a hand over his face, not once jarring his glasses.

            "Haven't you ever played Monopoly??" Wycost asked incredulously. Signas shook his head. "God, you really ARE dronish."

            "I beg your pardon??" Signas asked again. Wycost shook his head.

            "When the GDC made you, they gave you exceptional intelligence, right?"

            "Yes."

            "Did they bother allowing your emotions to grow?"

            "Emotions get in the way." Signas retorted. Wycost merely stared back at him before shaking his head.

            "Emotions do not get in the way, Signas. Believe it or not, they help us. Go ahead, you go ahead and ask X what state of mind he was in when Zero died on June 19th and it was up to him alone to stop Sigma and the First Uprising. You ask how Zero felt when he came out of nowhere in Doppler's Fortress and saved X's ass from the proverbial rock and a hard place. You ask anyone here what their thoughts are when they enter into battle. And almost every last one will tell you that it was their EMOTIONS that guided them then."

            Signas coolly absorbed Wycost's retort, then finally shrugged.

            "If such is the case, then so be it. But if you have so much love for this organization, why did you leave?"

            "Mitigating circumstances." Wycost said quietly. He turned about and began walking out. "Signas, you have a lot to learn about how the world works. I know, it sounds cruel and calloused. But what the Hunters do here is keep the world safe. Remove the Hunters, tinker with the winning formula, and you remove the only thing keeping the human race from armageddon. I just hope you learn that soon. Because if you don't, it might be too late. For all of us." Wycost walked out of the War Room, waving one hand over his shoulder in a farewell gesture. Signas quietly brooded over his words, then turned back to the main viewscreen.

            There was still a battle being fought. And that was what Signas had to worry about now.

            Still, someone was following Wycost. The Bronx Bomber could sense that much.

            He only had to stop in his tracks before the figure slammed into him. Wycost remained unmoved by the jolt, yet the figure behind him fell to the ground with a slight exhalation of air.

            Wycost turned about and cracked a dry smile.

            "Shouldn't you be building something?" He muttered, extending his hand down. 

            Cleo accepted it and got back up, a little disheveled.

            "Next time, warn me when you're going to stop walking."

            "Old habit. I don't like being followed." Wycost replied easily. "Still, Cleo, mind telling me why you're playing tagalong?"

            "You're Doan's friend, right? You knew him from a long time ago?"

            "A very long time ago." Wycost muttered, still refusing to drop his small smile. "But I don't exactly feel like revealing anything. He's your boyfriend, if he wants you to know about his past, he'll tell you." Cleo pouted a little, and Wycost caught himself. "Of course, there is a message you can relay to him. I'm headed back to Horn's hideaway, and as I understand it, Doan's Flight Wings are almost in the finishing stages. Tell him whenever he gets done with his mission on Cornus to come join me." Wycost reached into his pocket and handed Cleo a datapadd. "There, that should have the warp jump coordinates."

            "Thanks…" Cleo began to say. But no sooner had Wycost handed the datapadd over than he vanished out of the MHHQ in a flash of green warp light.

            Cleo blinked a few times, then snorted in disgust.

            "Is everyone around here so non-talkative?!"

            Protoman checked his energy levels for the thirtieth time that day. And they still didn't look good.

            "Forty-four percent is not enough to stop an onslaught…" He muttered, noticing how his vocal processor slurred the last word. Rationally, he would have tried to find some place to rest for a while, to give his recuperative systems time to catch up with the immense drain he was placing on it.

            Of course, over the last five days, he hadn't been given a moment's peace. That tended to not help matters. When he wasn't trying to keep Kalinka safe from the raging blizzards of the Siberian wilderness, he had to face off Wily's robotic hordes. Most of the time, it was just mindless drones sent on attack paths. But from time to time, a Robot Master would make an appearance. Never good odds. And it didn't help matters that every day they stayed out here, Kalinka's condition got worse and worse.

            He had no tents. No food packs. No E-Tanks. No mode of transportation, short of his own two feet. And she was growing colder and colder.

            She was avoiding frostbite, Protoman thanked the stars. Her mittens, her hat, her boots and coat were all designed to withstand the Siberian winter. No, cold wasn't the problem with Kalinka.

            Hypothermia didn't enter into the equation. It was overheating. Untold sickness ran rampant through Kalinka's weak frame, driving her body temperature up and up in an attempt to kill the viral hordes.

            And yet that lifesaving measure would destroy her just as easily. Probably easier. The only hope Kalinka had was to make it to Cossack's Citadel, where Blues knew that her father would have vital medical services.

            For the moment, she was sleeping, albeit uneasily. Protoman clucked his tongue sadly and held his hand over her forehead. Her eyes drew tighter in on themselves, and she moaned a little, but she didn't wake up. Slowly, Protoman's fingers felt the heat blanch out of her bright red face and seep into his fingers, lessening the pain of her condition, if only for a few precious moments. 

            Cold compresses he didn't have. But an icy hand of metal and synthskin he did. 

            She'd gone without food since they escaped Wily's Skull Castle. Her body would have to deal with that. But if she didn't get water, she would die. 

            "Kalinka, you have to stay put for a while, all right?" Protoman said quietly, kneeling down and brushing a few loose strands of that angelic blond hair aside from her now ashen face. She said nothing, and Protoman almost rescinded his comment. Even if she'd been awake, she was too weak to move. Too weak to do anything but creep closer and closer to death every excruciating hour.

            Gritting his teeth a bit, Protoman gave Kalinka's hair one final stroke, then turned about and walked out of the alcove he'd blasted into the massive boulder. He'd have to thank Gemini Man for being such an eager weapons donor…if he ever got the chance.

            He'd barely stepped outside and into the blustery, snowflake filled air when something sharp came whistling by and embedded itself in the rock next to his head.

            Now alerted and thoroughly pissed, Protoman ducked low and scooted off in a different direction. But his wandering eyes saw what had almost crushed his skull in.

            A four pointed throwing star. As big as his head.

            And then it grew silent. Beyond all reason, the howling wind grew silent. The snowfall stopped. And a wary Protoman, ducked halfway behind his Protoshield, stared out and grimly recognized his opponent.

            "Shadow Man." Blues spat out. The ninja robot smirked back at him, his arms calmly folded with his right arm holding another Shadow Blade between index and middle finger.

            "You've been on the run for a very long time now, old friend." Shadow Man said amusedly. Blues growled and began to charge his Buster.

            "I stopped working with you and with Wily a long time ago."

            "In the end, that was a mistake." Shadow Man said, the smile gone for cold hatred. "You left the winning team, Break Man. That's not something we particularly endorse."

            "Don't call me that." Blues barked back. Shadow Man lowered his arms and summoned forth a second Shadow Blade, then stood there with arms cocked at his sides.

            "Well, I didn't come here to play memory lane with you, old gray. I came to reclaim Kalinka and take her back to Wily's Skull Castle."

            "Over my dead body." Protoman growled menacingly. Shadow Man had to crack another half-insane grin at that.

            "You fight me, and that's just what will happen. Face it, Protoman. You've been on the run for days now. Even if you left Skull Castle at maximum internal operations energy, that figure's dropped below half by now."

            Protoman knew the Robot Master was right. 

            _Of all the twips to send…why him…God, why did it have to be Shadow Man?_

_            "You can't take her back, you realize." Protoman uttered. "You can't warp there with her in your arms…you'd kill her. And just the same, it'd take you five days to get back there. And she'd die by then. She's sick and weak…"_

            "And helpless, I know." Shadow Man snorted. "Honestly, human adolescents are so weak and feeble. But we've taken that into account. Spark Man is back guarding the hover-transport. With it, we can transport Kalinka back to base within hours."

            "Well, aren't you smart." Protoman said tersely, letting his Proto Buster begin to charge up for a supershot. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?"

            "I'm afraid we do. It's best if you just gave yourself up and walked away, old friend. I might even spare your life."

            "Just like that?"

            "Just like that." Shadow Man said, his voice seeping with compassion. "Geez, I mean you're at half energy or better. The elements have worn you down, you're a sorry excuse for a challenge."

            "Huh." Protoman muttered, seeming to mull over the idea in his head. With a final shrug, he turned about and walked off.

            It was then that Shadow Man cracked that insane grin once more and hurled both Shadow Blades at Blues' back.

            They impacted with a sickening thwock, and the Robot Master grinned as he heard a sharp grunt of surprise, and the impact of a heavy body against the ground.

            The wind picked up, and once more visibility dropped to almost nothing. All the Robot Master could make out as he approached his newest kill was the definitive red of his Protoshield.

            But when he reached it, that was all he found. Blues' Protoshield, and the two Shadow Blades embedded not only in it, but through it.

            "What the…" Shadow Man rumbled, backing away in surprise. The Robot Master's eyes shifted about the zero visibility environment, narrowing in an attempt to discover where the crafty Protoman had escaped to.

            "You're ninja, all right. Just a pure assassin with no honor." Came the waspish voice to his left. Reacting immediately, Shadow Man summoned a throwing star and hurled it at the sound of Blues' voice. It hit nothing. Enraged, Shadow Man slid along the ground, hoping to knock his opponent into submission with his sliding kick.

            And yet even there, he hit nothing. Stunned and now off balance from his inability to trace his opponent, Shadow Man backed up several steps.

            "Show yourself!" He barked out. "Fight fair, you traitor!!"

            "As if you ever did." Came the cold response, this time to Shadow Man's left. Another throwing star, another clear miss. Only this time a return shot came, screaming straight through his right elbow as easily as a bullet might go through paper. The lower half of his right arm fell to the ground, severed at the joint, and Shadow Man screamed for a brief moment.

            "How are you doing this…Wily never gave you a cloaking device!" Shadow Man stammered. He knew, of course, of the dangers surrounding cloaking fields. Built on the foundations of warp technology, it was a branch still dangerous. Both to human life and artificial life alike. And he knew Blues didn't have a cloaker…yet somehow, he couldn't see the pestersome prototype of all advanced robots. But he did hear Protoman's voice. Only this time, directly behind him, a reply that gave the still jarred and armless Robot Master no chance to respond.

            "Just die already."

            That was the last thing Shadow Man heard before a piercing cyan laser careened straight through the back of his head and out the front of his face, disfiguring it completely before the core processor of the robot was melted into slag, just like every other part of the cranium.

            Decapitated, Shadow Man's body slipped to the ground and powered down into shutdown mode. A weary Protoman stepped forward, hidden by the blinding white snow in his periwinkle blue Gemini Laser guise. In a blink, he switched back over to normal, revealing his location in the swirling storm.

            "Damnit…" Protoman uttered, slumping to one knee. His back armor now had two definitive gashes in it from where the Shadow Blades had struck through his shield and hit his body. Included was a new problem…sluggishness in his right arm. "Sonofagun got me."

            But in a way, he'd also helped him. Now Protoman knew there was a transport nearby. 

            With only the bumbling Spark Man guarding it. Taking a brief moment to extend his left hand down and grip Shadow Man's left wrist to claim the Shadow Blades as his own, Protoman slung his shield behind him once more. He winced for a moment as the blades still embedded in his shield bit into him, then tore off the sharp blades with pinpoint blasma blasts, making his shield safe to wear once more.

            Inside, Kalinka's feverish consciousness was just coming to again.

            "Whu…"

            "I'm here." Protoman said wearily. "Come on, you gotta get up."

            "Blues…" Kalinka mumbled, her eyes still fluttering somewhere between sleep and awake.

            "What?"

            "I'm hot…my head hurts, I'm so hot..." 

            "I know you are. I know." Protoman emphasized, picking her up and cradling her against him. He could feel her body shiver slowly against his, her fluttering, erratic heartbeat pulse away against his own chest. "I'm taking you home. I got you away from Wily, and I'm taking you home." Kalinka seemed to smile at that, her eyes growing shut.

            "Blues…"

            "Yes?"

            "I love you."

            She fell back asleep before the red and gray armored robot could tell her that was impossible.

            "Good gravy." He mumbled to himself, taking her out of the rock's blasted alcove and back into the slowed maelstrom of the Siberian wilderness. "Kalinka, you're too young to understand. Humans can't love robots. It's an impossibility. It just can't happen."

            The knight in shining armor effect, perhaps? The fact Kalinka saw him as her hero, the one to whisk the princess away from her ivory tower and live happily ever after…

            He couldn't hate her for that. 

            "Some day Kalinka, you'll understand. Some day." 

            She couldn't love him. It couldn't go on. If she fell in love with him, she would never move on. She would never have human children. She'd be an outcast in society, she'd…

            But none of that mattered now. She was a very sick little girl whispering nothings out of insanity, latching onto a place between dreams and reality.

            **Caution: Internal operations energy at dangerously low level. Seek stasis within the next hour.**

            And the wind blew harder.

            Spark Man blinked his eyes a few times to break free of low-grade stasis, and then realized that there was a pounding on the outer door of the hovertransport.

            "Shadow Man?" He queried cautiously.

            "I've got her!" Came a muffled voice, barely audible over the roar of a blizzard growing worse by the moment.

            Spark Man reached over with one misshapen rod of an arm and punched the door hatch switch, allowing a side of the cargo compartment to slide open to the elements. He could make out two figures, one the size and approximate shape of Shadow Man clutching onto another, smaller form…

            Before he could take a second look, the Cossack girl was shoved in his face.

            "Excellent work!" Spark Man crowed, gently squeezing his arms around her and lifting her inside, then laying her on the floor. "It sure has taken a turn for the worse out there, I couldn't even make out your figure." He said casually, turning about.

            Spark Man froze in place as he found himself looking not at the distinctive white and blue of his ally Shadow Man…but a strange purple colored armor of a sunglass wearing robot, a four pointed throwing star in his hand.

            _PROTOMAN!!_

_            "Thanks for the ride." Blues said with a snarl. In one swift throw, Protoman hurled his Shadow Blade at Spark Man's head, decapitating it cleanly._

            Both Spark Man's limp torso and his head were thrown out of the hovertransport and into the snow.

            "That's two Robot Masters Wily's gonna have a Hell of a time finding." Blues slurred, pulling Kalinka into the cockpit of the vehicle and seatbelting her in the passenger's seat. Placing himself in the driver's side, he reached for the auto-nav controls and set the transport's coordinates for Cossack's lair.

            **Warning.**** Auto-stasis in twenty seconds. Prepare for auto-stasis.**

            His eyes falling shut on him, Blues had only enough time to trigger autopilot and let the hovertransport take over for the rest of the journey, and then turn his head and look at the precious little girl he'd risked life and limb to save.

            "We're taking you home, Kalinka." He said in a quiet whisper. Behind his nearly opaque sunglass visor combo, he let his eyes close. He could still hear the roar of the outside weather, and the gentle thrum of the hovertransport as it took off for the safe haven beyond the horizon.

            "We're taking you home."

            Gasping in surprise, Kalinka snapped her head back up and blinked a few times, then tried to get a bearing on her surroundings.

            "I suppose you were having what you humans call a 'bad dream'." 

            After a few moments, Kalinka's weary eyes came into focus. There was Ring Man, unchanged since she had first seen him, way back when she was still a child…

            Back before the wrinkles were there. Before her father became an aged, defeated man. Back when Mega Man and all his friends were still alive…

            _When Protoman was alive…_

_            "Not particularly, no." Kalinka replied easily, now fully alert, yet somehow saddened as her memories dawned on her. "Not bad dreams. But not all good dreams."_

            Ring Man took the comment at face value.

            "Do you think we're controlled by fate?" Kalinka added suddenly, catching the Robot Master by surprise.

            "What makes you say that?" He shot back, puzzled by her response. Kalinka's eyes sparkled with the beginning hints of tears, and perhaps also something more, something deeper.

            "Do you remember 2085?"

            "Somewhat." Ring Man said, shrugging. "I remember being told that Mega Man and all the others were dead. Killed off by one of Wily's creations. But in all honesty, I stayed away from that as much as possible. It was Pharaoh Man who was around during your mourning, when Mega Man's body was entombed here. It was Pharaoh Man who seemed determined to watch you and your father through all your emotional states."

            "He was papa's favorite…" Kalinka said softly. A tear began to roll down her cheek, and she squeezed Pharaoh Man's limp hand. _He isn't Blues, he isn't the one I…and yet, he's still family. The most advanced Robot Master left now, the only one left… "Please don't die on me."_

            "He's still fighting it." Ring Man echoed, answering Kalinka's question beforehand. "His mind's lighting up like a Christmas tree all over the place, and he isn't done fighting yet."

            "He's the only one I have left now…" Kalinka said quietly, so quietly Ring Man had to focus to hear her clearly. "I lost father...lost Blues…I can't lose Phare…"

            "Blues?" Ring Man asked suddenly, breaking her from her trance. "As in Protoman? What does he have to do with Pharaoh Man?"

            "They were all people I cared about…" Kalinka muttered, looking up at Ring Man with hurt eyes. "Protoman saved my life. If he hadn't risked his neck to whisk me away from Wily's castle, I would have died of influenza. That's why I mention him. Because I cared about him. I deeply cared about him. I worried about him. And I lost him!!" Her voice cracked up a little bit after that. "You couldn't understand…how he kept me alive as we went through that wilderness, kept me warm, put my needs ahead of his own, pushed himself to exhaustion…"

            Her voice faded out then…and before Ring Man could offer another conjecture, the nearby monitors began to chitter furiously.

            Stunned, Kalinka looked down at Pharaoh Man, whose free arm now began to spasm involuntarily. She backed away from him, just as his other arm began to go haywire.

            "What's happening to him?!" She nearly shouted. Ring Man's face was grim. Even grimmer than usual.

            He looked down at the nearby voltage output monitors, watching the wildly fluctuating needles.

            "He's in the critical stage. His mind has built up so much resistance from the differing pathway reactions he's been causing to stop the shutdown command, his body's beginning to die on him. As if his brain was beginning to fry from a fever while trying to stop an infection…"

            "What will happen?!" Kalinka gasped.

            "There are only two outcomes at this point." Ring Man said grimly. "In both cases, it will end because one part of his warring mind will win out. They'll be throwing everything at each other now, in an effort to end the fight soon to reduce needless structural damage." Ring Man held an index finger aloft. "Scenario one: The side of his mind fighting against the auto-shutdown command triggered by your induced mind freeze wins out. However, due to all the strain on his mind, there's a high chance he'll become little more than a low level drone…a vegetable, in human terms." 

            "God…"

            "And Scenario Two," Ring Man continued, unfazed by Kalinka's gasp of dismay, "The auto-shutdown command wins out. Every portion of his mind will slip into meltdown, and the structural damage caused by the resistance is negated, because it's all slagged anyhow. Without a consciousness, or even a set of stasis-class subroutines active in Pharaoh Man's mind, his body will undergo auto-shutdown to stop a chaotic chain reaction in his Microfusion energy core."

            "Is there anything we can do?" Kalinka asked, almost panicky. Ring Man blinked once, then shrugged.

            "You're human." He finally said. "Pray."

            The deserts of Cornus Island hadn't seen so much conflict since X had attacked the ancient nuclear missile base back in late December of 2118. Of course, with the final missile destroyed by X's capable Buster, the base, and the desert itself had shifted into the wasteland of the island.

            The intensity of the battle was both impressive and frightening. Every Maverick General found themselves literally surrounded by capable Hunters, several notches above the forces faced so far, and yet not as good as Zero or X had been.

            It was that simple truth that prevented them from losing.

            "Aah, CRIPES!" Bastion swore, swerving parallel from his spiraling course to avoid an explosives tipped missile emanating from Burst Scarab's stores. He turned about and clutched tightly to his beam staff, one blade purple and the other blue, to get his bearings. "Jad, Kol, Gav, REPORT!"

            "Shit creek, boss!" Came the terse reply from Gavin. Burst seemed to almost waggle an eyebrow as he summoned forth another missile. "Hold on a sec…"

            "I don't HAVE A SEC, GAVIN!" Bastion literally screamed through his wristcomm.

            A pair of plasma supershots suddenly seared up and struck Burst in his vulnerable underbelly, jolting the Maverick free from his attack. 

            "Courtesy of the boys, boss." Came Gavin's dry, yet humorous reply.

            "Smartass." Bastion said back, although grinning for a brief moment. "You and the rest of the 21st deal with this bomb beetle. I've got someone else to deal with." His eyes scanned about, then darkened as he found who he was looking for. Off a quarter mile distant, a pack of screaming Hunters from the 4th Unit, considered to be another elite Unit, but still below the 21st's average rank, was being lifted up into the air, surrounded by a pack of darkly glistening hexagonal crystals…Gravicrystals.

            Even as Bastion's Angel's Advantage wings screamed him in closer and closer towards the fray, the members of the 4th Unit were casually being picked off by Buster shots from below. Sickened, Bastion could only land as the gravicrystals, now freed of their burden, returned to their owner. A Maverick in black with blacker hair, and eyes as hard as diamonds.

            "You had to kill them all, didn't you?" Bastion murmured, gripping onto his beam staff tighter. The Maverick…Kazok Gravor, Bastion recalled, simply crossed his arms and offered a dry half smile.

            "Yeah, sure. And the other option was…let them destroy me? Pardon a fellow for trying to follow the Third Law of Robotics." Kazok seemed to yawn a bit, then shook his head. "Funny. Every time we do this, I get to understand the farthest reaching capabilities of my equipment. I didn't know that I could use my gravicrystals to lift up that much mass…Oh, well, every day a new lesson. One lesson I've learned is that most of you Hunters aren't as hot as you make yourselves out to be."

            "Shut up." Bastion hissed, snapping his staff apart into the two separate beam sabers they truly were. Holding one in each hand, he crouched down until he resembled a cobra ready to strike. "If you're trying to goad me into acting stupid, it won't work."

            "Oh, a fellow with some sense in that cranium of his now, is it?" Kazok chirped, narrowing his eyes. Slowly, his gravicrystals drew about his waist, spinning faster and faster until he hovered up into the air.

            "Do they need to rotate like that?" Bastion queried.

            "No, it's just for show. Plus, anyone who gets too close gets their arms ripped off." Kazok answered back with a grin. "Which puts you plum out of luck, saber boy. You still keyed up on taking me on?"

            Bastion's reply was a simple smile that seemed to imply he knew more than he was letting on. Silently, his own antigravitational gear drew him up into the air, his Angel's Advantage wings radiating a faint light as he hovered up just as high as Kazok was, so the two were staring each other down, arms at their sides. Both were all too painfully aware of the steady thrum of Bastion's beam sabers, as well as the furious drone produced by Kazok's gravicrystals. It hung between them, the distant sounds of the other conflicts lessened.

            "I know you, Kazok Gravor. But now, know me. I am Bastion, The Desert Angel."

            "Oh, just go by Bastion." Kazok snapped. "Geezus, The Desert Angel? That sounds so GAY. Fine. We know each other. So just shut up already. FIGHT."

            "Gladly." Bastion said, pulling his arms and his sabers back. By thought alone, a pair of angled crystalline squares came down from his helmet, clicking together in front of his eyes to form a light reddish protective visor over his eyes.

            "What are those for?" Kazok snorted. 

            "This." Was all Bastion said, before leaping ahead at breakneck speed and delivering a roundhouse punch to Kazok's jaw, so fast that the Maverick hadn't even been able to move a hand up to block it.

            Kazok was still reeling back from the blow when Bastion dropped back in front of him, one beam saber calmly slipped back into its recharge port, the other casually held in a low ready defense.

            Kazok spat out a wad of purple blood caused by the jarring impact, then widened his eyes as he realized how much worse the damage could have been.

            "Oh, you sonofa…"

            "You Mavericks are all talk, aren't you?" Bastion said darkly, pulling his blue beam saber down and clutching it with both hands. "Next time I'll use the saber to shut you up."

            "TRY." Kazok snarled, morphing his right hand into a Buster and drawing in a charge. Bastion narrowed his eyes. Now things were going to get interesting.

            Doan narrowed his eyes. Why did he always get stuck with the monstrous idiots in situations like this? The Turtloid class Maverick brought his foot down again, sending the Hunters of Zero's #00 Unit scrambling for cover, both from the impact and the roiling wave of fire that followed. Although Doan had to give them credit…even during retreat, they were firing everything they had at it. Only the effects were nil.

            "That's right, run you fraidy cats!" The Turtloid roared, curling up into his shell and rolling after an unlucky few, squashing them flat before they exploded into atomic fire because of their punctured microfusion tanks. Doan gritted his teeth at the sight of so many able warriors being destroyed so easily. Nearby, a Tarusoid class was charging through the screaming Hunters, taking some Buster shots, but ramming through without stopping, spearing Hunter after Hunter onto his massive horns before tearing them apart as easily as ripping paper.

            Doan gripped his beam lance tighter, then dashed towards the Turtloid Maverick just as he rolled to a halt and got back to his feet.

            Out of the corner of his eye, Shell Butane saw a blur moving towards him. He spun around and belched a massive wave of flames from his mouth, blanketing the entire area. 

            Only by then the blur had managed to dash jump over the attack, scamper up the length of Shell Butane's body, deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to his monstrous jaw, and then drop down in a ready position, unharmed and unfazed.

            The Maverick himself wobbled back and forth a few times from the mighty blow, but finally came to, glaring down at his challenger.

            "Huh." He finally snorted, trying to act unimpressed. Just another humanoid class reploid with exceptionally gray armor and soulless eyes. He finally decided if anything about this new Hunter unnerved him, it wasn't the elongated beam weapon held in both hands. It was those eyes. "Nice shot, chump."

            "Speed is not your friend." Doan shot back. "A big sonofabitch like you has power, and that's about it. Probably not a lot of brains, either, I'm guessing."

            "Oh, really?" Shell Butane snorted, clenching his fists tightly and ripping off another blast of flames. 

            Doan's eyes calmly watched the roiling wave of death approaching, and then took a moment to examine his cluttered, chaotic surroundings. Finally making a decision, he side-dashed the wave of flames to stand ready once more. Silently, he clucked his tongue as the rampaging Turtloid class Maverick curled up into his shell and tore down the dunes towards him, every open hole of his shell spouting flames that left crude silicate crystal in his wake. Well, that certainly improved the speed of his rollout…

            Acting by instinct alone, Doan jammed his beam lance into the ground and activated one of its hidden functions, the Saber Flare, extending the blade of the weapon to well over ten feet and vaulting both the handle of the weapon and himself up high into the air, clear of Shell's attack. He shrunk his blade back to normal from the charred hole in the sand, then air-dashed from his height over the rampaging Maverick.

            Watching in satisfaction, and perhaps a twinge of grim revenge, Doan fell back to Earth, watching as Shell Butane flew along and crashed straight into his fellow rampaging Maverick…the Tarusoid who up to that point, had been making a field day playing needlepoint. Exactly as Doan had planned it. Shell Butane and Cumulus Bull pulled themselves from their sorry heap, only to find themselves surrounded by a very vicious group of #00 Unit Elites.

            "Like I said…" Doan muttered quietly, holding his blade close and looking around for any sign of a counterattack, "Probably not a lot of brains, either."

            Things all had to fall apart now, of all times, Zero cursed the fates silently. While the rest of the massed members of the #00, 21st, and Elite Hunters in general had their hands full with four Mavericks, he got to deal with two at once. If X was still along for the ride, then this would be no problem. Through combat that would make the most experienced poet weep for its beauty, the Blue Bomber of 21XX and the Crimson Hunter would annihilate anyone within a matter of minutes. Their teamwork, their ability to read each other's moves and react to enhance the effect was miraculous, second to none in all of the Hunters. Their combat effectiveness as a team had been proven in the Erasure Incident of 2128, when after defeating Berkana and Gareth separately, the two of them met up again to once more end Sigma's mad machinations. Even though Sigma fought them on a level battleground with no walls to climb, no possibility for advanced dodging maneuvers, in a battle body that rivaled his previous final form, Kaiser Sigma, he had lost. X and Zero had combined their abilities, and proven once and for all that the two of them made the most perfect pair of Hunters ever to exist.

            Only now, X's armor sets were degraded into uselessness. X himself lay in Hazil's Medical Bay, still recuperating from his wounds. And that miraculous teamwork would not come into play this time around.

            "Give it up, Zero!" Dolph laughed, in that high squealy chitter borrowed from his animalian counterpart. Zero gritted his teeth and held his saber tighter, backflipping away from the two-handed downslam Dolph's plasmic hands tried to embed in his skull. "The last time we met, you lived only because you escaped!"

            "The last time we met, you were working with a trigger happy explosives man." Zero shot back. "And this time around, he isn't here."

            "That's because I'M here!!" Came a hissing voice from behind Zero. The Crimson Hunter would have groaned, had he had the time to. Dash Blade had worked her way behind him while Dolph kept him preoccupied. They were going to try to attack him from both sides, a development Zero didn't enjoy, or appreciate.

            Still, Zero rationalized, there was one thing that he still held over their heads. During battle, a normal Hunter grew less and less effective the more he or she got smacked around.

            This wasn't so for Zero, who relished the thought of pain and mutilation…grimly, he reminded himself, because of who made him, and what he was made for. But that no longer mattered. Only the results and the end of Sigma's mad regime did.

            He swung around and lifted his saber up, easily blocking Dash's feral swipe with her plasma claws. The two forces sat there, grating on each other and spouting sparks for several moments before Zero cut loose with a loud roar, lifted his feet up off the ground, and planted them directly in Dash's upper torso.

            This move would have left him open to be overpowered, to be knocked down by Dash and given the final blow. But Zero hadn't lived as long as he had without picking up a few tricks, including this one…

            Before Dash could even so much as hiss in surprise, he ignited both of his boot's dash thrusters at maximum power, overriding the safeties for one brief moment. The effect was immediate. Dash went one direction, her chest armor smoking and partially melted from the bellowing flames, and Zero went another, his long blond mane of hair trailing underneath him before he flipped up and righted himself, saber held aloft to defend from an attack from above.

            Dolph's own retaliation had been placed at where Zero had been standing before he initiated his almost suicidal thruster burn, so Zero wasn't surprised as even before Dash's weakened body hit the ground, a massive hand of pure plasma slammed down against the sand a fair distance from him…

            Which left the other hand still somewhere else, Zero noted drily, taking a moment to pause and think before finally leaping straight into the air and narrowly avoiding Dolph's second hand as it came scorching by, solidity sacrificed for pure burning power. The Crimson Hunter could feel the heat almost singe the paint off of his dash boots as the attack missed the bottom of his toe by mere centimeters.

            Zero narrowed his eyes. This was where the tides were about to turn.

            _You bastards almost killed X. Now it's time to pay._

            He hit the ground with the grace of a ballet dancer, then tore off with his dash boots burning far beyond normal operating conditions. It drained his fuel reserves a lot quicker, but Zero didn't care. He was looking for results, not statistics…and results is just what he got.

            A stunned Dolph saw Zero screaming towards him, the Crimson Hunter's entire body lifted clean off the ground as a massive cloud of flames shot out from behind him. He barely had enough time to pull his plasma hands from the ground before Zero was on top of him.

            But Zero wasn't looking to end the fight this quickly. He wanted revenge.

            Zero hit the ground fifteen feet beyond Dolph Reach, skidding to a halt with one steel toed boot grinding a deep track in the marred dune. Dolph's hands clattered just behind him…

            Shocked and full of disbelief, Dolph stared down at the two stubs of his arms where his hands had once been. He only had enough time to register surprise before everything went haywire.

            The energy he'd been using to control his plasmic hands had been centered in the complex circuitry of his wrists. Now, with his hands and wrists missing, that energy racing from his Microfusion tank had nowhere to run, nothing to control it.

            Zero turned around and shut his saber off, placing it in its recharge slot on his recharge pack strapped to his back. Then he narrowed his eyes against the blinding explosion and waited.

            The effect he'd caused upon Dolph Reach was frighteningly similar to the more traditional problem of double Buster overload. Zero himself had died using the trick in the First Maverick Uprising…a problem he never had to face again, thanks to Serges' upgrades during his time of reconstruction in the Second. But Dolph had no such protection. In fact, the explosion that came might well have been stronger and more devastating than what had befallen Zero.

            Dolph Reach's burned, charred, bleeding and utterly mangled body fell in a heap by his hands, thrown there by the force of the explosion. Somehow, he survived it.

            And yet, now with both arms completely blown off, he was at the Hunter's mercy.

            The fight around Zero, Dash Blade and Dolph Reach quieted, as the Hunters encircling them suddenly realized the new scenario. Everyone stayed back. Not because of the Mavericks…But because of the sudden sheen that glowed in Zero's eyes.

            It was beyond disgust, beyond hatred…It was a negative emotion so deep that it defied explanation. Some would later report Zero's eyes glowed with an eerie light, that his body radiated an aura of darkness…lies and hallucinations, it would be assumed. But despite the exterior appearance, nothing could change how Zero walked, how his jaw was set. There was a calm about him, a calm that knew someone would die. A calm that didn't care anymore, didn't place emotions on it.

            Dash clambered back to her feet, breathing heavily with one arm held to her mangled chest and the other with its TitaniTefloAlloy claw snapped out for attack.

            "Cheap shot." She rasped, stumbling towards Zero with a speed that all too well indicated how seriously she'd been hit. 

            "You do everything in your power to survive, to win." Zero snapped back. "It doesn't matter if you're Hunter or Maverick, feraloid. If you don't try your hardest, you'll always lose."

            "Victory without honor…"

            "Still means you come back home alive." Zero finished icily. With one strong hand, he swooped down and held the crumpled Dolph Reach up by his throat. Zero stared into the smooth metallic face of his nemesis, saw how one eye was shut, and the other stared off listlessly, unresponsive. But neither that, nor the blood gushing from Dolph's injuries swayed him.

            Zero morphed his other arm into a Buster and held it against Dolph's head, building up a charge with such power that all around could hear it. Then he stared at Dash, watching her slow pace stop suddenly as their gazes met.

            _You wouldn't dare. Her wild eyes growled at him. Zero's eyes didn't even blink._

            _And you're any more saintly?_

            "This one dies, right here and right now, unless you can tell me…" Zero rasped menacingly, "…Where is Sigma."

            Dash drew her only claw back in and clenched her fist up, then reared back and screamed in anger. But finally she turned her burning eyes back to him.

            "He's inside, Zero. Waiting for you, and only you."

            "I was never one to disappoint." Zero said shortly. His Buster vanished from view, and he dropped Dolph to the ground like a sack of rotted potatoes. He then turned around and dashed off, jumping over the ranks of Hunters and making his way towards the sole blast door of the archaic, supposedly abandoned desert base.

            The other Hunters snapped free from their stupor, shouting out in surprise before bolting into action. Yet none of them could stop Dash from holding true to her name, blazing in with fire gushing from her feet and snapping Dolph up before warping off into oblivion, escaping every blast of plasmafire that scorched the desert sand.

            Off in the distance, every other Maverick in the fight suddenly ceased their attacks, turning as if alerted by some sixth sense to the pair of warp beams shooting up from in front of Sigma's pseudo-lair.

            Shell Butane and Cumulus Bull both snorted a bit.

            "Let's vamoose." Shell said.

            "I hear ya." Cumulus grinned, giving a quick salute to the nearest member of the #00 Unit, before he and his comrade blasted off into oblivion.

            Somewhere farther off, an airborne Burst Scarab flew up higher to avoid the overwhelming plasmafire from the members of the 21st below, and only then noticed his departing comrades.

            "I suppose our part in this little charade has been played." He mused. With a grin returned to his face, he summoned forth a salvo of ten cluster bombs and struggled to keep aloft.  "It's been fun, fellas!" He called out to the Hunters below, before dropping his final payload and fleeing off in a similar beam of warp energy.

            Only when they saw Burst Scarab blast off did Gavin, Jad and Kol stop firing.

            "Something's not right here." Gavin muttered. Jad and Kol narrowed their eyes as well, and finally picked out the descending objects. As they drew closer, the leaders of the 21st's teams let their eyes bulge. 

            "Geezus, RUN!!!" Jad screamed, dashing off. 

            "GET OUTTA HERE!!" Kol screamed, almost at the same time. But despite their best efforts, the closely packed members of the 21st were doomed from the beginning…

            An overwhelming onslaught of explosions raked the ground where the majority of the 21st Unit stood. And when the smoke finally cleared, the results were devastating.

            Eight members of the 24 Hunters in the 21st would never move again.

            It was Kazok that was the last to respond to the faraway sound of warp signatures leaving the desert area of Cornus Island. Only after narrowly avoiding a blistering corkscrew spincut from the agile fire colored Hunter with silvery wings was he able to level a roundhouse kick and a plasma supershot in the back that sent Bastion reeling.

            Kazok's eyes narrowed at the fleeing beams that represented his teammates.

            "Well then…I suppose we're done here for now." He commented drily, turning to Bastion as the Hunter righted himself in midair and glared back at him. "Bastion, it's been a real pain in my ass fighting you. Next time, fate will most definitely not smile on those with brown hair."

            "Next time?" Bastion growled, swinging his blue saber through the air with a loud thrum. "We're finishing this here and now, Maverick." 

            Kazok smiled and crossed his arms, drawing in his gravicrystals and dropping to the ground below as easily as riding an elevator.

            "No…I don't think so. My role here is ended for now. Zero has been lured into Sigma's web, and it is time for us spiders to scurry along."

            Bastion couldn't level a reply before Kazok vanished in the flames of a transport beam. 

            And then it hit him.

            Turning around with horror in his eyes, Bastion shut off his blue saber and stored it away, looking over the throngs of wounded and surviving…and dead Hunters…to the massive rotted structure of a building not that far off.

            And there was a red blur dashing into it.

            "Zero, NO!!" Bastion cried out, flying towards the structure as fast as his body would allow. And with his goggles down, that was fast indeed.

            _The weapon you can never take from me, Sigma, is my rage. _

_            That was the thought that ran through Zero's head as he dashed towards the sole aperture of the defunct missile base. Rage tempered Zero, like a hot fire made a sword strong._

            Sigma's plots had gone far enough.

            He'd wiped out any hope of a world peace through his manipulations of Doppler.

            He'd tried to manipulate Zero himself one Uprising before that.

            He had caused the events that led to the Repliforce being misidentified as being Maverick…

            _Iris…he killed you. And now I'm going to make that bastard pay._

_            He killed you, and he tried to turn me. AND HE ALMOST KILLED X._

_            No thoughts of a trap, of a far deeper plot entered into Zero's mind._

            And he didn't even notice once he was inside the building, that the massive blast door shot down, blocking his escape route.

            By then, he was already one hundred feet inside, and screaming for blood.

            Bastion, despite his best efforts to slow down and avoid collision, slammed into the newly dropped blast door at sixty miles an hour. As he collapsed to the ground, his head spinning with stars and Hunters massing around him, he didn't feel the pain.

            He only knew the screaming.

            _ZEEEEEROOOO!!!!!_

            Pharaoh Man blinked a few times before he realized he'd awoken from stasis. And there was Cossack standing by his side, calmly removing his gloves from whatever repairs he'd administered.

            **November 28th, 2090****. Optional equipment installed…accepted. Now running at normal parameters.**

**            "Doctor Cossack, what is this optional equipment?" He queried quietly, lifting one eyebrow almost up to the brim of his turban. **

            Cossack smiled at him then, his bright brown hair already beginning to thin out and gray, then shook his head back and forth.

            "Pharaoh Man, you are by far the most competent and multitalented Robot Master in my Citadel. What I have given you is abilities no other robot has ever had."

            "Such as?"

            "The ability to cry." That made Pharaoh Man blink a few times.

            "Doctor Cossack, I am a robot. Only humans have ever felt the need to cry."

            "Robots can as well…" Cossack said sadly, pushing a hand through his wiry hair. "Pharaoh Man, do you remember Mega Man and the others?"

            "I have not seen them for five years…well, discounting Mega Man's body, which lies in the antechamber…"

            "I know that." Cossack said quietly, seeming to grow older as the Robot Master reminded him. "God, I know that…I'll never forget that day, when came to our doorstep, a hovercasket floating behind him…That had been my life, Pharaoh Man. Helping Doctor Light and Mega Man against Doctor Wily, helping them to build their tools and gadgets. I knew them all, was close to them all, as I am with you, and then…" Cossack's voice trailed off as it cracked up. Finally, the elderly robotologist coughed and wiped his face on his sleeve, pushing past the all too heartbreaking memory. Pharaoh Man could almost sense the pain Sergei had drudged up.

            "But do you remember them? How they were?"

            "Yes." Pharaoh Man said, pursing his mouth from behind his facemask. "Their emotions…seemed genuine at times. Deeper, somehow."

            "They had evolved." Cossack told Pharaoh Man bluntly. "Not as much as Mega Man X is supposed to reach, but in all terms of the word…they had feelings, Phare. And I do believe there were times where if they could have cried, they would have."

            Pharaoh Man picked himself up and dangled his short legs over the side of the table. He examined himself for a moment, then turned and looked at his creator.

            "I don't feel any different." He finally admitted. 

Cossack nodded gently. "No, you wouldn't. The upgrades I have given you, Phare, are not meant to instantly increase your emotions, to make you more human instantly. I have given your face the ability to smile, to frown, to look sad, to grieve…to cry. They are meant to be there when those emotions finally do come to you. So you will have a way to express them."

            "What makes you so sure that I am capable of such emotions?" Pharaoh Man asked, lifting one querulous eyebrow. "Mega Man and the others were special cases. They were built by Light. They had his revolutionary designs. They all had the same kind of special touch…a touch that I do not possess."

            "Because you were created by me?" Cossack inquired. He shook his head. "No, Phare. For once, your self doubt does not serve you. You are capable of the same jump in evolution as they were. It will come to you slower…but it will come. And it may well come to all the others. But it will come to you first."

            "What if I don't want to change?"

            "Fears, Phare?" Cossack replied, smiling gently. "Don't worry. Emotions are a natural thing. There is nothing to be afraid of, there is little you can do to stop it. Even now, you have a rudimentary emotional system…suspicion, quiet displeasure, small joy…They will grow. As will you."

            "Why?"

            "Because you can."

            _It began there, didn't it? That's when I began to change…when two distinct personalities emerged. The old and the new. _

            **_Cease and desist this useless action. Obey the Laws._**

**_            Pharaoh Man found himself in the middle of an expansive plain, a virtual wasteland._**

            And virtual it was. A black gray sky that flashed with angry black lightning, and a ground composed of mere squares hovering effortlessly in the nothingness.

            There were two figures standing in the midst of this quiet, yet turbulent nothingness. Only the flashes of lightning, brief as they were, allowed them to look at one another.

            Standing erect, arms leveled at his sides with cold eyes stood Pharaoh Man, with his deep goldenrod armor, face hidden behind the mask he always wore in battle, limbs laid in a deep black that almost merged him with the sky.

            And staring straight back at him was Pharaoh Man, with his mouth in full view, face mask discarded and turban slightly askew. The goldenrod coloring of his armor was lighter, and the black that composed the rest of his body was instead a light silvery color overlaying it.

            The one standing undaunted was the part of Pharaoh Man still embedded in the Laws of Robotics, the part of him held in iron shackles. 

            The other figure, the one standing with fatigue in his eyes and angered determination in his jaw was the other part of Pharaoh Man. The part of him that so many years ago, had began to develop…the part of him Doctor Cossack knew would come about, and finally did, as it was born into the world of Mega Man X, to lead the Foregone Five to victory over the Maverick attack in Moscow.

            **_You cannot win. To fight the Laws is futile. _**

**_I can't let you win. _**

_            The new Pharaoh Man drew in a bolt of power into his left gauntlet, and hurled a crescent wave that scathed along and cleaved his rival's ground square into two useless pieces that fell into oblivion below._

            With all the ease of breathing, the old Pharaoh Man landed safely on a new square and fired back a retaliatory sphere, hitting his opponent solidly in the shoulder.

            The Pharaoh Man representing the evolved consciousness began to go blurry from the shock of the blow, and he held one arm against his shoulder, slumping to one knee as the other part of him drew nearer and nearer…

            **_We have broken the First Law of Robotics. We have caused harm to mistress Kalinka. We must die._**

**_You're not taking me…Do you hear me?! I WON'T LET YOU!!_**

_            **You have no choice.**_

            "Energy spike! Ring Man hissed. Now, Toad Man, Drill Man, and Bright Man were in the room as well, all anxiously watching and waiting.

            "What does that mean?" Kalinka asked, horrified.

            "One of his warring halves is winning." Bright Man filled in vacantly. "The power behind the signal clash is almost too powerful now…"

            "Which side?!" Kalinka now screamed in desperation.

            Ring Man didn't have the heart to tell her.

            **_You cannot ignore me. You cannot overcome me. I am you, _****_Pharaoh_********_Man._****_ I am the you that was born in the age of _****_Mega_********_Man._****_ The part of you that was rebuilt after Wily's reprogramming was eliminated from your scrapped carcass._**

**_You want bonus points for longevity?_**

_            The new Pharaoh Man jumped away with his powerful legs and landed on another square, hurling yet another half moon of devastating plasmic energy down._

            The old Pharaoh Man sidestepped the blow, then jumped for another platform as his was destroyed by the evaded attack. But what he wasn't able to avoid was the sudden burning orb of plasmic energy the new Pharaoh Man hurled straight into his midsection, knocking him flat on his back for one brief moment.

            Acting on instinct, the old Pharaoh Man went with the roll, completing the backwards gyration to get his feet underneath him. He then jumped backwards once more, narrowly avoiding another blistering shot.

            When he finally reached his defensive stance, he found the new Pharaoh Man staring back at him, teeth bared.

            _I won't let you win. I'm alive. I'M ALIVE, DAMNIT, AND I'M NOT GOING TO LET A TECHNICALITY DESTROY THAT!!!_

_            Acting unfazed, the old Pharaoh Man relaxed his posture and lifted a finger at his other half._

            **_We brought harm to Mistress Kalinka. We have broken the First Law. For this, we MUST die._**

**_BULL. Utter and total bull!! The new Pharaoh Man screamed back. __Did we once reach out and physically harm her?!_**

_            **There is physical damage, and then there is emotional damage. We made her suffer the latter.**_

**_Kalinka had been traumatized LONG BEFORE it ever got to that point! The only reason she said that stuff was because she was angry, damnit! She's lost her father! WE LOST OUR FATHER!! Kalinka was angry, she was emotional, she wasn't thinking straight…It's human nature, to vent anger not at the true target, but at whatever stands in the way!_**

_            **She stated we were the cause of her troubles.**_

**_SHE STATED WRONG._**

_            **That is illogical.**_

**_Humans are illogical, you bastard._**

_            The old Pharaoh Man narrowed his eyes further._

            **_You believe that? You could hold true to that? Do you honestly believe Kalinka appreciates you, appreciates the other Robot Masters? Even if your statement holds true, even if she was just 'venting anger', it doesn't change the fact about her experiences. She was kidnapped by Robot Masters. She was held in captivity by robots. And in due time, it was Cossack's dogged involvement in the field of robotics that further alienated her from her only surviving parent. She has all the reason in the world to hate robots._**

**_You're wrong._**

_            **Really?**** The old Pharaoh Man mused, almost humorously. His brief mirth vanished in a blink. ******__Then you're dead._

            The new Pharaoh Man almost couldn't understand what his alter ego meant.

            But then he noticed the outstretched hand at him…and the finger that pointed.

            It was the same position he'd held his arm in to charge up so many a shot…into a crescent moon blast.

            And all this time, the old Pharaoh Man had been building a charge.

            A dozen things filled him then. Disbelief, outrage, stunned stupor, surprise…

            But when he pushed past that, pushed past the bitterness, there was one emotion above all else that existed, clear and untainted.

            Fear. The fear of dying.

            The old Pharaoh Man fired at long last, the shot leaving his fingers like sparks from the back of a fireworks rocket. There was a coldness in his eyes then, a coldness that spoke of nothing but purpose, of hard logic.

            But now…the Pharaoh Man that was now…the new Pharaoh Man, didn't have that blank look in his eyes.

            It had taken years. He was old, one of the oldest robots to still exist. 

            And he had changed. Cossack's predictions, all his faith and trust in his son of metal had at last come to pass.

            Slowly, the shot came closer and closer. The new Pharaoh Man could make out its every curve, its every glimmering and deadly facet.

            _I WON'T LET YOU!!! He screamed, pulling forth his left hand and firing off a crescent moon shot of his own. He did it without charging, without waiting…_

            It just came, one great and defiant burst that shimmered beyond the pale yellow, and suddenly…amazingly…turned a blazing blue green.

            The two shots met, they collided…and they stayed there, chewing on one another, neither one making any ground whatsoever. Now in a stalemate, the final blasts from both halves of Pharaoh Man's psyche waited…Waited to see who was stronger.

            **_YOU CANNOT RESIST THE LAWS! THE LAWS HAVE CALLED FOR YOUR DOOM!!_**

**_            And as the blinding energies of their attacks melded, the new Pharaoh Man stared on and looked through it, into the old Pharaoh Man's eyes…cold and heartless to the last._**

            And somewhere within himself, somewhere deep inside his chest, the new Pharaoh Man--

            The TRUE Pharaoh Man…

            Had only one cry. And as he shouted it out, shrilly and with every erg of his energy, the crescent moon blasts exploded, blanketing everything within reach in rays of plasmic destruction.

            _I wanna LIIIIIIIVE!!!!!_

            The monitor keeping track of Pharaoh Man's brain pathways lit up like a firecracker after what seemed to be impossible…a spiraling of electrical current reaching so high on the scale that every last person in the room thought his entire body would be cooked.

            And just like that, after it beeped a blinking red light for a few brief moments, the entire thing shut off, the smell of ozone and the prominent cloud of smoke proof enough that the energies it had been keeping track of had been too intense for it to handle.

            The single lightbulb in the room of the Fourth Ring dimmed for a few moments before the power fluctuations disappeared and everything went back to normal.

            And then nothing but silence, and the smell of burned wires.

            Nobody said anything for a while.

            And then Kalinka's muffled sobs finally broke the dismal quiet.

            "He…" Ring Man began, then stopped himself short and shut his eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

            Similarly, every other Robot Master in the room bowed their head.

            "Why are you all hanging around here?" Came a croak out of nowhere.

            Their grief turned to disbelief…then radiant, exultant joy.

            One of Pharaoh Man's eyes was open, dully focused on them all.

            Kalinka was too stunned to speak. So the competent Toad Man did the honors.

            "How do you feel, Pharaoh Man?"

            The silver and gold armored robot had one answer. An answer he suddenly knew was true above all others. And he said it with a smile then, and one tear in the corner of his eye.

            "Alive…"

            Exhausted and relieved, Pharaoh Man let himself drop into stasis. 

            Ring Man turned around, his eyes light hearted once more. Now he could finish off his sentence.

            "He MADE IT." 

            The six Maverick Generals under Sigma were all in the Medical Bay, in some state of disrepair or another. Of them all, Kazok had been given the least damage. 

            But the others hadn't been as lucky.

            Dolph Reach was in deep stasis, floating in a vat of goo that had set to work rebuilding his missing arms. He was out of the fight for tomorrow. Perhaps two days from now…

            Kazok brushed back his hair and looked across the room to Shell Butane and Cumulus Bull, snoring. Plasma burns to their armor, a few dents in the head…

            "This is unacceptable." He mumbled quietly, walking over to Burst Scarab. He lay there on a table tilted at 45 degrees, his eyes shut as he let the quiet antigrav armor repair drone set to work on his battered underchassis. Alive, scraped, nowhere near as damaged…

            And then there was Dash. The feraloid that had become closer to him than any other of the five under him.

            She'd faced Zero. And Dolph had faced Zero.

            _I got off easy. I only had to face one hotshot with a pair of sabers and some nasty wings…But they had to face Zero himself._

            Despite her own severe damage to her chest armor, Dash was busy at the controls of Dolph's recuperation pod.

            "Hey." Kazok said quietly, stepping up next to her. Dash didn't even bother tearing her dull, pain filled eyes from the screen.

            "He just went through us like we weren't there. There's something more driving Zero than Microfusion energy, it's impossible what he pulled off…" She curled her ears back a bit in shame. "Dolph…he's fighting Zero one moment, and the next his hands have been sliced clean off and he's lying almost dead from the explosion." 

            Kazok ran a hand through his hair.

            "All this because of an old grudge Sigma has with Zero…God, I swear that he's gone insane. All these years of fighting have driven him over the brink, he isn't thinking straight, he isn't thinking smart…We got hurt today for his plan."

            "I failed…" They both said at once. 

            Startled, Dash turned to look at him.

            "How did you fail?"

            "I didn't protect you. For God's sakes, I'm your commander, it's my job to watch out for you, and look what happens…" Kazok slammed a fist against the side of his leg. "I promised we'd all make it back alive…And look what happened!" There was disgust in his voice then.

            "Do you honestly think you could have changed the situation any if you'd been there?" Dash muttered consolingly. "You couldn't have done anything, Kazok."

            "I could have tried."

            "And you might have died in the process." Dash snapped back at him, eyes brimming with hurt. "Look, the simple fact is, like you, I don't want anyone else getting hurt here. But I don't want you getting hurt most of all."

            Kazok blinked a few times, opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

            "What?" She asked him warily. Kazok shrugged a sad shrug.

            "I was just about to say the same thing…"

            And then it clicked. 

            Kazok brushed it off and shook his head again.

            "Dash, you're no better off than anyone else here. Drop into stasis, I'll complete Dolph's repairs."

            "Still worried about me?"

            "Always." Kazok admitted. Dash had to crack a smile at that, baring her perfect fangs.

            "You'd better watch it there, Kaze…keep this up, and that tough guy leader façade is going to slip away from you faster than oil from water."

            "I don't care." Kazok said with a returned grin, full of mirth and a little sheepishness. 

            Slyly, Dash walked over next to him and rapped him on the nose again.

            "Well, neither do…"

            He'd smothered her in a passionate kiss before she could finish her sentence.

            And then nothing else mattered but the sensation of his lips against hers.

            Bristol was scared out of her wits. One moment, she was walking along the cold streets of Juneau, and the next she was running for her life, fleeing from an enemy she couldn't see, but instinctively knew was there.

            She couldn't scream. And nobody else around her could see it either. They just saw her, running for her life, long blond hair with pink highlights trailing out behind her.

            _God, keep them away, just keep them away…_

_            She made it far beyond the city outskirts before it got a whole lot worse._

            Gasping for air, she turned about, her blue overcoat whirling from the effort. Her pale blue eyes shone with pure terror.

            And then fear finally took physical form.

            As the sun of Alaska's summer beat down, accompanied by a chill breeze that even at Alaska's warmest, offered some of the coldest temperatures in the world, she saw them. Their figures, standing erect and watching her with hidden eyes.

            Dressed all in black, in even darker robes that hid the contours of their body from view.

            Bristol brought her beam saber out from her sleeve, igniting the pink blade.

            "STAY BACK!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, waving it menacingly.

            The two merely stuck their arms out, with a cylindrical beam weapon casing in their closed fists.

            They snapped on, each chrome cylinder creating two form blurring black beam sabers from either end.

            They were armed with beam staffs.

            She was afraid of them. She'd faced down Mavericks who would have killed her as easily as blinking, and yet the emotions she felt then were more of action, of surprise than fear.

            It was beyond all logic. It was just pure fear.

            They charged her at the same time, overwhelming her and slicing her beam saber in half. Before Bristol knew what was happening, they had her knocked to the ground, her coat with a gash severing it nearly in half, and a lighter wound underneath in the side of her armor. 

            And then they stood over her, and she saw the raw, unbridled hatred in their eyes. 

            They wanted her dead. Without question. 

            The point of a beam staff's blade went up and sat above her forehead. And there it hovered.

            "Why…" Was all Bristol could utter, in a pained whisper.

            "Your time has come to an end, reploid." Came the cold reply. 

            Bristol shut her eyes against the tears, reaching a hand down into her pocket and clutching tightly around the locket she kept. And there it stayed.

            Bristol slipped into stasis, overwhelmed not by the damage, but by the fear itself that had expanded about her, swallowed her whole.

            "Wait." Barked the other warrior. The first one, who had been raising his weapon for the final strike halted unsteadily.

            With scrutiny burning in his narrowed eyes, the other MI9 operative knelt down and examined Bristol, and the armor she had been wearing underneath her blue overcoat.

            Finally, he stood up and shook his head.

            "We can't kill her off, Lem."

            "Why the Hell not, Earl?!" Barked his teammate. Earl turned his face up, grave and bubbling with mixed emotions.

            "Orders from HQ. If we ever came across Bristol, our orders were to bring her back in. ALIVE." His partner shut off the saber and drew in a sharp hissing breath.

            "Shit, you mean that this bitch is…"

            "One and the same, yes."

            "Where's the other one, then?" Lem queried quickly. Earl shrugged.

            "Hell if I know. What I do know is this one's wanted alive. So let's head back, drop her off and let the suits worry about her. Personally, I need a beer."

            "If you're buying, I'll take one."

            "Screw you." Came Earl's reply, a smile in the corner of his face.

            As if they were hunters going home after the kill, which in some sick way they were, they slung Bristol's slumbering carcass over Earl's shoulder and warped out, distinct blazing beams of energy.

            Somewhere in the distance, a thundercloud rumbled, prompting some Juneau residents to look up.

            One elderly man with a glass eye seemed to mull over the approaching sound for a moment, then harrumphed and tottered back inside his window.

            "A storm's coming."

            It was times like these Zero wished X didn't get smacked around so damn much. 

            X had led the assault through this base all those years ago. Zero hadn't even bothered looking at a schematic of the abandoned building.

            It was showing its age, too. The sand had been allowed to howl through its corridors, and with all the rust and corrosion upon nearly every surface, it resembled a ghostly corpse more than it did a structure once built to house the Apocalypse.

            A low wind had followed Zero, through cracks in the outer walls brought about over time. It followed him, a gentle moan that disturbed the air and overpowered the silence. His every footstep on the concrete and metal floors rang out with clarity, almost too loudly for Zero's heightened senses to take.

            Zero narrowed his eyes for a moment, focusing in the dim light to stare down below his feet. There was an incredibly large shaft…too large for any normal elevator to have ever seen use in, but a freight elevator, perhaps. In any case, the mechanisms that had worked it had been gone before X arrived to stop the Mavericks from launching the lone nuclear missile in December of 2118. 

            He'd wandered through what must have been three quarters of the base, and had yet to come across Sigma. But he knew the Maverick King was there. In what he'd sometimes called a higher sense, he just knew Sigma was nearby. Holding one hand up near to the hilt of his beam saber, he jumped down the shaft, slowing his descent at the last minute with a burst of dash thruster flames that briefly lit up his surroundings. 

            And then Sigma's voice came out of nowhere, echoing about in the shadows so perfectly that the Crimson Hunter couldn't tell which direction he was coming from.

            _"Interesting scenario, I thought…Why not pick a place relevant to the chain of events that led to me almost enslaving you into Maverick service twelve and a half years ago?"_

_            "Show yourself!!" Zero barked, his own voice as reflective and unclear as Sigma's. The echoes about the rotting base were muddled, and so confusing it might almost induce vertigo. _

            Sigma laughed for a few moments, cold and heartless.

            _"Of course, then if we consider the outside environment…a heat-ridden, arid wasteland, then we come to the realization that this place holds far deeper meaning than a pitiful attempt to overthrow Cornus Island during the Second Maverick Uprising. I think you would remember it as well as I do…"_

_            "Just what the frack are you talking about, you freak?!" Zero demanded._

            _"Surely you haven't forgotten your origins, Zero. Surely you haven't forgotten the fact that you are the final creation of a madman. I faced you then…when you were your true self. When you were one and the same with the blight that I now carry in my body."_

_            "SHUT. UP." Zero growled. _

            Suddenly, Zero's ears picked up a sound he hadn't heard in a very, very, long time. The distinctive ratcheting click of a rifle chamber being loaded.

            A magrifle.

            He dropped to the deck, flattening his body against the long since abandoned floors of the missile base. And then a very loud blast echoed about the chamber, as magnetically supercharged buckshot flew overhead. Zero had to curse at that…

            Mag-weaponry was an older generation of weapons, relying on old-fashioned metal bullets and buckshot to be the stopping power. But it was a simple matter of causing the gun's chamber to act as an electromagnetic slingshot, hurling the round at previously impossible velocities. Although in general, mag-weaponry was considered to be not as dangerous as, say plasma based weapons like X-Busters and beam sabers, they were still deadly. And Zero knew that a magrifle would have no problems gashing through his chest armor.

            "Show yourself, you coward!!" Zero screamed at the top of his lungs. 

            And then a single light came on in the building…not one attached to it, but a separate device. A spherical hovering ball floated down, casting an eerie, pale white glow on everything about it. Every shadow in the building grew deeper by its effect. Almost as if it was meant more to increase the darkness than to dispel it.

            Sigma walked out of the shadows, standing in the edge of the light with a casual smirk on his face. Zero glowered and held his beam saber—once Sigma's, before he lost it to X in the end of the First Maverick Uprising—in a defensive position. However, for every other devastating weapon Sigma seemed to have on his armor, what he did not have was the distinctive barrel and handle of a magrifle.

            "Where's your duck-hunting gear, Sigma?" Zero queried with a growl. Sigma chuckled low in his throat, then shook his head.

            "Oh, that wasn't my magrifle that was shot at you. It was my associate's." Sigma turned slightly to the side and revealed another smaller Maverick that came up to stand beside him.

            Zero narrowed his eyes. The Maverick was all in black, and wore a visored helmet that kept its face hidden. To top matters off, a strange sort of nightshade poncho hung around the Maverick's body, keeping its true figure hidden. But from the looks of him, Zero noted, the new Maverick standing beside Sigma had more speed and agility than raw power. And the new Maverick did indeed have the weapon that had been fired at him.

            "I thought you were content with your six." Zero challenged, bringing his beam saber in an arc. "What, decided to play eight is enough?"

            "Oh, Zero, Zero, Zero…" Sigma said, almost gleefully, "You may be a true warrior, yes, but you aren't like X. Only he could truly understand the planning, the precision, and the coldhearted ruthlessness I put into every trial." 

            "So what are you planning to do this time, Sigma?" Zero asked, his voice cold. "Are you going to face me as I've come here for…or are you going to run off so I can kill yet another pathetic Maverick underling?"

            "Oh, I assure you that I am not running. But you will not face me…not at this time, anyway. My colleague will perform that role all too smoothly. For at last, there is a Maverick who can stop you in your tracks."

            "Pretty stupid dream you have going there." Zero barked. "I've NEVER backed down from a fight, and I've always come out on top."

            "Until now." Sigma mused humorlessly. He stepped back a bit farther and glanced to the short Maverick standing beside him and grinned again. "I have finally found an opponent you cannot triumph against. Because no matter how ruthless you are, no matter how hot the fire in your heart burns, it will always be destroyed by your stupid weakness."

            "I HAVE NO WEAKNESSES!" Zero screamed, jumping forward with his saber raised high.

            And something stopped him then. Before his own saber could connect with Sigma's head, a hot pink blade ignited into life and stopped his dead in its tracks.

            The two blades hovered there, and Zero's glare burned into the visor of his new opponent. Sigma laughed and stepped back into the shadows.

            "Have fun, Zero."

            And then Zero's new opponent pulled the pink beam saber away and pointed the magrifle back up.

            Zero ducked again and avoided the blast, kicking the black cloaked Maverick away. He heard a definitive grunt…a feminine grunt…and then the faint flicker of a lock of brown hair hanging out of the helmet.

            "Male or female doesn't matter to me." Zero snapped. "You're going down."

            "Goddamn SIGMA!!!" Bastion screamed. The rest of the Hunters were blasting away at the door with every X-Buster in the lot of them. Now that Sigma's backup had left, it was an easy enough task. 

            "The figures aren't good." Gavin said dourly. He stood behind Bastion, the both of them unable to offer any more firepower to the attack on the door. "Everyone lost troops this time around. We have a 1 out of 5 loss by the Maverick's hands."

            "And the best we were able to do was piss 'em off." Bastion growled, clenching his hand into a fist. "Six Maverick Generals against the best of the Maverick Hunters, and the only person who does any serious damage to ANYONE is Zero against that dolphin-type."

            "We lost a lot of men in our unit alone." Gavin said quietly. 

            Bastion's eyes seemed older then.

            "Yes. We've all suffered here today." He clenched a fist up, feeling useless. "Warriors who will never again walk the Earth, smell the air, breathe the scent of battle."

            "You truly do love fighting, don't you?" Gavin asked.

            "I fight for a reason." Bastion said wearily. "But more and more, that reason's beginning to fade."

            "Losing your faith?"

            "I'm losing my edge."

            The two of them looked ahead at the barrier blocking them from getting to Zero and backing him up.

            Even though Zero was considered to be one of the best Maverick Hunters, and had faced Sigma before…

            The barrier was beginning to give way. But it wasn't giving way fast enough. Not for Bastion. Most definitely not.

            "Fall back!!" He called out over his comm circuit, lifting up into the air by the will of his Angel's Advantage wings.

            With the surviving Hunters clear, Bastion unleashed a mighty scream and tipped his wings in, bending them so far forward they almost looked like a pair of guns.

            And that was just the purpose they served as well, as Bastion summoned a pair of blistering electrical discharges that streaked down and blew the door apart.

            Just like that, the barrier was destroyed, and the Hunters poured in with Bastion leading them by air.

            Doan stayed behind a fair distance, pursing his lips before shrugging, stuffing his beam lance back into its recharge port, and warping off.

            They didn't need him now.

            Zero grunted from the retaliatory strike, which was aided by a quick, well timed dash thrust from the female Maverick's dash boots. He had to hold his saber with both hands to stop it from slicing through, but he managed, adding enough of his own weight behind the parry to throw her back and cleave her saber in half as she let go of it. Which meant she still had her hand, but had lost her beam saber, which exploded in a shower of sparks.

            The female Maverick stumbled back, clutching onto her wrist for a moment in shock. Zero's eyes burned brighter than ever, and he shook his head.

            "Look who lost their saber."

            The female Maverick turned her helmeted head up and looked at him for a moment, in an expression he could not see. But what she did next managed to catch him off guard. She reached underneath her poncho a short distance and pulled out a pair of small metallic objects that glinted in the dim light just enough to catch Zero's eye, yet not enough to alert him to what they were.

            That question was soon answered as two smaller beam weapon fields came online with a smaller thrum. They glowed yellow, casting a distinctly different sheen upon the dark surroundings, previously lit only by the green and now destroyed pink beam sabers.

            Zero tightened his jaw, clenching his grip around his saber a little tighter…Not exactly a good combination, he commented to himself with much chagrin. Somebody small, maneuverable, and with speed to kill for, and now she had beam daggers on top of it all.

            She dashed towards him, one dagger extended to stab at him and the other held back conservatively. Zero knocked down the first dagger's thrust, then backflipped to avoid the followup slash. 

            There lay the true danger in a beam dagger. It was meant for slashing, not stabbing. This Maverick was good, but Zero knew he was better. And he was getting sick and tired of her pulling so many different tricks out of her bag.

            "THIS ENDS NOW!!" He bellowed, raising his saber high with his left hand. The Maverick charged in and threw one of the daggers, letting it soar on towards Zero with the trigger pushed in the dead man's switch position.

            Zero batted it aside with a deft flick of his wrist and the green beam saber it held, then dashed straight back at her and slashed. She cried out in surprise from his unexpected aggressiveness and parried with her only remaining dagger. Zero's blow pushed it back and out of her hand, but it stopped enough of his force that his downwards slash succeeded only in destroying her poncho and revealing the thin, lithe, attractive body in its black suit beneath.

            Zero let out a powerful curse and gave her a swift uppercut right along the bottom of her helmet, knocking it clean off and sending her sprawling to the floor on her back. 

            But it was there that the madness stopped. The red faded from his vision, and Zero found himself suddenly realizing where he was. Standing above a very stunned, very frightened female Maverick with the green light of his beam saber glistening in her deep, tender eyes. 

            The point of his beam saber was pushed against her neck, almost touching the adam's apple that bobbed up and down as she exhaled in fright. 

            _No, it can't…No…God, no, I'm seeing things! This isn't real, she's DEAD! She's dead, she can't be alive!! She was lost on the Final Weapon, she can't…_

_             Her outfit was different…but it was her. It was the one he'd had feelings for. The one he even…_

            "Iris…" Zero croaked, jerking the beam saber back in stunned shock. Her chest heaved in fear, but she finally spoke up.

            "How-How do you know me?"

            Zero didn't respond. He couldn't. Her eyes burned into him, her bobbing brown hair…the same as ever…

            And then Sigma appeared from the shadows, pulling Iris to her feet and laying a hand on her shoulder. Contempt burned in his eyes. Contempt, and a hint of justified irony.

            "You can't kill her, can you Zero?" Sigma said mockingly. "You can't bring yourself to it." He laughed a bit. "But of course, Iris has no such qualms." 

            The female Maverick shook her head once, then dashed over and retrieved the beam dagger Zero had knocked free from her hands. 

            Zero turned about, his mind still racing with a hundred different confused emotions. Rage and hatred and surprise and horror and love…All intertwined into a potent mixture that utterly exhausted him, slowed his response times…and shut down every facet of the warrior spirit he used to survive in combat.

            Zero screamed out in pain as a sharp gash dug itself into his left shoulder. He spun away from it, stumbling to one knee to find himself staring into Iris's eyes, now hard and icy. Her beam dagger lay in her right hand, right where she'd held it when she stabbed him.

            Gasping in pain and clutching at his wounded shoulder, Zero's eyes began to flood with tears.

            _Iris…why…_

            It was Iris. It was his Iris. But she was Maverick now.

            Sigma laughed, shattering what little resolve Zero had left. He slumped to his knees, defeated. 

            "You insignificant FOOL." Sigma rasped. "Now can you see? The fight continues between us until I win…never the other way around."

            "How did he know my name?" Iris murmured, eyes still burning. Never once did she tear her gaze from Zero's pained face, his radiant blond hair, and his now useless arms. His own beam saber fell from his grasp, and rolled on the floor for a few scant moments before shutting itself off.

            "I'll tell you all about it when we get back." Sigma said quickly. "But for now, know this. Zero is one of the most dangerous Maverick Hunters in existence."

            "Why…" Zero murmured, his eyes beginning to go into the back of his head. 

            **Warning: Shoulder in critical condition. Prepare for auto-stasis.**

            And somehow, Zero didn't care then. If he was his normal self, he would have overridden auto-stasis, kept fighting even if it meant he'd perish. Hell, he'd died before.

            But not now. He had gone into this fight with a vengeance burning in his heart to avenge X's defeat and near death.

            And all that had faded, like dry ice in open air once Iris had appeared.

            He couldn't kill her. Not again. Not this time. He'd never forgiven himself then, never. The grief and anguish he'd felt had been carried inside of him since 2129. Never forgotten, but buried under the surface. Buried underneath revived hatred, countless drinking sessions, and newer details of his own existence that had only recently come to light.

            And now it had come back. Like a weed, it had sprouted up from where he'd buried it.

            He didn't care. Hell, X had almost died. Cain was dead. Everything was changing, none of it for the better. Finding a reason to fight for…

            He had no reason anymore. Not when Iris was standing there in front of him, a full fledged Maverick.

            _It's a copy, a clone…it's not truly her, but…_

            "Your time has come to an end, Zero. Just as X's time has ended, so has yours."

            Only one thing stopped Sigma and Iris from finishing off Zero then and there.

            The sound of twenty X-Busters whining up to full power in close quarters. Every one of them pointed at the two Mavericks.

            The dim light of the base barely illuminated the figures of all the Hunters staring down from above. But it was enough for Sigma to realize that unless he wanted to perish once more, his business was done.

            "Come, Iris. We'll finish this some other day." She looked at the odds, then nodded. Quickly, she retrieved her other beam dagger and stepped next to Sigma, warping out with the Maverick King in one warp beam.

            When Bastion hovered down next to Zero and picked him up, the great Crimson Hunter was in stasis.

            "Orders, Commander Bastion?" Asked Gavin emotionlessly. 

            Bastion shook his head, blinked his sad blue eyes and held Zero carefully in his arms.

            "There's nothing we can do now. Let's head back to base. There's dead to bury, and injured to keep alive."

            And Zero slept. Not caring if he lived or died.


	18. The Doorway To Oblivion

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE DOORWAY TO OBLIVION

            "Every test proves it." Said Ring Man in awe. "Pharaoh Man, you are most definitely alive."

            "And?" The revived robot asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

            Ring Man paused for a moment, then looked over to Kalinka, then back at his fellow member of the Foregone Five.

            "And to top it off, your mind is running without the core module."

            "The what?" Kalinka asked, perking her ears up. Pharaoh Man's face paled a bit.

            "The core module…the thing in my mind that contains the Three Laws."

            "When Kalinka initiated the mind freeze in you, the first thing to short out was the core module." Ring Man offered. "In normal circumstances, it sends out a signal as it perishes that then afflicts every other area of your mind. A chain reaction, if you will."

            "But in my case, I fought it." Pharaoh Man added slowly.

            "You fought the shutdown command and won. The core module destroyed itself, but you blocked it from transferring its destruct code and destroying everything else." Ring Man's eyes shone in admiration. "You went beyond a robot. You're something more now."

            "Just what are you saying? I feel the same as I ever did." Pharaoh Man protested, hopping down from the examination table.

            "But you no longer have the laws working in your mind. They don't control you!" Kalinka said, a little afraid. "You're different now, Phare. You might not feel different, but you are."

            "In some ways, it might be said that Pharaoh Man has evolved into a reploid."

            "Reploid?!" Pharaoh Man said, almost shouting it. "Now hold on a second, there…"

            "My God, Ring Man, you're right…" Kalinka uttered. "Reploids have emotions. They have feelings. And in them, the Three Laws are not ingrained." She nodded her head. "Phare…you are a reploid."

            "No." Pharaoh Man said, shaking his head. "I look different than I did thirty years ago. And I certainly have feelings. And I can even believe that by surviving the mind freeze, I now live without the Laws directing my actions. But I cannot be a reploid. I wasn't built a reploid. I was built as a robot."

            "And you can change." Kalinka stated in admiration. Suddenly, she walked next to him and gave him a wide hug. "God, I thought I would lose you."

            "Hey, hey, lay off!" Pharaoh Man mumbled, looking slightly embarrassed as the elderly woman held him tight. "Kalinka, I'm alive, all right? I don't need to be crushed to death!"

            "Father was right about you…" She sniffed, shaking her head. "You and the rest of the Robot Masters all have the capacity to change. To become more than who you were. God, I'm sorry for what I did, Phare…I didn't mean it, I just missed him so much…"

            "We all missed him." Pharaoh Man said gently, patting her on the back. "And I suppose he was right. If I didn't have the capacity to become more than who I started out as, I would have most definitely perished from the mind freeze. I forgive you, Kalinka. I knew you didn't mean it. He thought you meant it…but I knew you were just upset."

            "He?"

            "My other half." Pharaoh offered simply. "The one who no longer exists." He eased Kalinka back and nodded his head. "In any case, since I'm still alive, the Foregone Five can still function. And our work continues."

            "Perhaps not right away." Ring Man said. He handed Pharaoh Man a datapadd. "If you'll recall, Doctor Cain passed away around the same time that our creator did. His loss has impacted the Maverick Hunters quite negatively, and they've brought in someone completely new from the GDC to take his place. Someone, who, I doubt would appreciate help from a vigilante group such as ourselves."

            "Hmm." Pharaoh Man mused, rubbing at his chin. "Kind of spoils the water in the bucket. Still, didn't X send us that list of other people we could trust in the organization?"

            "Yes." Ring Man nodded, pointing to the list. Pharaoh Man's fingers tapped on the keys of the device for a few brief moments.

            "Bastion, commander of the 21st Maverick Hunter Unit...Hazil, MHHQ head doctor…Doan from the 17th, and of course, Zero."

            "Zero." Kalinka said shortly. She exhaled her mouthful of air and shook her head. "The others I can understand…But I can never forgive Zero. Never."

            "Why is that?"

            Kalinka's eyes burned with a memory long ago forged. "He killed Protoman."

            "He killed a lot of people, when he was under the influence of The Maverick Virus back in 2085." Pharaoh Man said quietly. "We try not to hold it against him anymore these days. Because he's X's friend, because he isn't who he was, and sometimes we have to bury the past and move on."

            "Unless you're an unburied past that refuses to die off." Ring Man said, lifting one eyebrow humorously. "Like us." 

            "As sad as it sounds, Ring Man is correct." Pharaoh Man agreed. "Until Mega Man X came to us, searching for the answers to his past, just as Doctor Light had said he would all those years before, we lived in the darkness of dead time. Now everything's changed. And now, we're changing with it."

            "So what do we do now?" Ring Man queried. Phare mulled over the idea, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling of the Fourth Ring.

            "Well…I suppose we just wait. If they need us, they'll call. Until then, relaxation doesn't seem like such a bad thing."

            And that was most definitely the truth.

            For Bristol, it was an odd sort of homecoming. In the deep, hidden recesses of MI9's most inner sanctums, in what had once been the reploid section of the R &D department, she had been dragged.

            Bernard Tarkin could hardly believe his eyes. They had thought Bristol lost to them. Lost for all time, when she and Willow vanished into the maelstrom of New Denver that was a Maverick attack.

            He pushed his lab coat aside from his pants pocket and reached for the handkerchief he used to clean his glasses. Gently, he took the old fashioned spectacles off of his face and thoroughly cleaned them, being as careful as ever not to scratch the lenses. Calmly, he slipped them back on.

            And still the image before him didn't change. There was Bristol, unmistakable in her armor. As if she'd never left.

            "Well, Bristol, I suppose I should say welcome home." He mused drily. "But I doubt you would remember me now, would you? No, I've already peeked at your memory, and it's as fritzed as Hell." A sudden flash of anger burned in his eyes. "You just had to go and use a memory wiper, didn't you?"

            Bristol couldn't answer him. She was in stasis, strapped to a heavy duty operations table with her arms and legs in manacles of TitaniTefloAlloy. A wonderful substance that could repel plasma, and was nearly indestructible, TitaniTefloAlloy was used in choice situations. The cost of making it made it financially unsound otherwise.

            "Oh, well…I suppose that doesn't matter much now, does it then?" Tarkin continued, as if she could somehow hear him. "We have ways of getting to your memory, even though you've severed the connections and made the files unreadable, by both yourself and whatever foreign scanners we might possibly use." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Of course, you'll have to be awake for the process…a mild side effect to the whole thing. But it'll be so much fun…we'll be able to catch up on old times, talk about the jokes we've had in our experience together, solve the inner crises of all the wonderful equipment you designed and built for us…"

            A gleam of almost paranoid joy shone in Tarkin's eyes then. 

            "Oh, and don't worry about your friend Willow. Yes, we've found her as well. She caused us quite a lot of grief, destroying two of our best field agents. You know, Geoffrey and Tim?" He hesitated for a moment, expecting Bristol to answer back. Of course, she couldn't. "Well, no matter. Geoffrey and Tim had a run-in with her, purely by accident! They were trying to find you, believe it or not. And they found her. Of course, they died. Willow might not have been the most theoretical minded of your merry little group, but she was by far one of the deadliest aces in combat. And then we lost her…of course, there was a very interesting warp signal that left Alaskan territory soon after that. It wasn't hers completely, we knew that much. We've traced it to an island off in the middle of nowhere…tropical paradise sort of place, completely separated from anywhere. As a matter of fact, if we hadn't traced that warp signal, we wouldn't even have known the island even existed."

            Tarkin stepped about from behind the rows of consoles, a datapadd in his hand. Absentmindedly, he punched a few buttons on it while walking towards Bristol.

            "Of course, it came as a shock to us, so we convinced some of our higher ranking members to get some satellite photos taken for us. Believe it or not, the island that Willow is on lies on no map. And it is owned solely by the founder of the now defunct URFAWP organization…a reploid by the name of Julius Kinnian Horn." Tarkin snorted. "Honestly…a reploid giving himself a middle and last name. What's the use in it? Some more field agents will be arriving there shortly to put Willow out of her misery, and to end the life of Horn as well. We can't exactly have reploids of their caliber left to stand in our way now, can we?"

            He leaned down next to her angelic, unblemished face and sat there, scrutinizing her for what seemed like hours. But finally he pulled himself up and shook his head.

            "And I've recently received word that our dear officer of construction projects, Commander Kowalski, has reached a sticky point in his recent task. That's why we needed you, you see…" He patted her cheek gently. "If it weren't for the fact that every facet and detail about the innermost secrets of the Berserker Beacon lay in your skull, you would already be dead in the suburbs of Juneau. As it is, you're alive for now." 

            Something stopped Tarkin from ending it there. He blinked a few times and thought over the sentence in his head, then shrugged with a murderous grin.

            "And who knows, Bristol? Maybe by the end of all this mess you'll be begging us to end your life."

            It was dark as Zero stepped through the shuttering doorway from the first part of the Final Weapon. The forces facing him had been severe in power, but low in intelligence. He hadn't seen a reploid yet. 

            Getting aboard the Final Weapon had been no easy task. Zero knew that X had made it as well, both of their shuttles having broken through Repliforce's initial defenses.

            This entire conflict had worn heavy on his mind. It had begun because Sky Lagoon, an airborne highrise section of the Dublin city, had crashed. From there, it only grew worse.

            It was Repliforce that received the blame for the entire mess. Repliforce, the organization created by the GDC in 2125 to make penance for the World Trial's inhumanities. Just four years old, Repliforce now faced its darkest days.

            General, a massive super-reploid who was in charge of the entire operation had sent out a massive announcement to every cluster of Repliforce operatives worldwide. That they were calling it quits. That they were sick and tired of being scapegoated, of being humiliated. They wanted justice, and they wanted out of the great conspiracy.

            General had made it very clear in his speech that he had no beefs with the humans. That he wasn't Maverick, and neither were any of his troops. They were just sick and tired of matters on Earth, and wanted to build a place where they could be left alone.

            _General, how much of a fool were you? You can't just get out of it like that…The GDC wouldn't stand for it!!_

_            They didn't, either. Repliforce, a group who was supposed to have partially taken over the duties of the Maverick Hunters, had been failing miserably in its duties. The Maverick threat hadn't been contained, and in fact had actually increased._

            X had his own problems in dealing with this mess. But he didn't have nearly the amount of strain Zero did.

            Zero had friends in this mess. Former allies. Even…

            _Iris?!_

_            Stunned, Zero looked across the dimly lit room. There stood Iris, face crestfallen and her brown hair hanging loosely behind her. _

            "So. You finally made it." She pronounced flatly. She tilted her face up and gazed into his eyes. "You killed him. I begged and pleaded with the two of you not to fight, but…" Anger seeped into her voice. "He was my BROTHER, Zero! I didn't want you two to fight!!"

            "He didn't give me a choice, Iris." Zero said back quickly. "He stayed behind to make sure the rest of Repliforce made it into space…to make sure that you made it into space…"

            "And you killed him because of that?!" Iris nearly screamed now. 

            "I didn't WANT to kill him, Iris!! But he wouldn't have it any other way! As far as he was concerned, one of us was going to die there!"

            "God, Zero…" Iris moaned, crumpling to her knees for a moment. With one trembling hand, she reached down behind her and plucked something up. Zero recognized it instantly…

            _Colonel's power core?!___

_            "Iris, no!!"_

            "This is all that's left of my brother, Zero." Iris said dully, standing back up. She shook her head. "I can never be happy again. I can never be myself again. Colonel was my second half…without him, I face it all."

            "Face what?"

            "The rage, the violence, the screaming…" Iris whispered, clasping a hand to her aching forehead. "The madness of a warrior." 

            The purple orb in Iris's hands slowly began to rotate and shift, until it had changed into a power crystal, similar to a large Energen diamond. 

            "You killed my brother because he stood in your way, Zero." Iris said, her voice losing its serenity as she slipped farther and farther away. "I didn't want it to happen like this…I wanted us to all be together. I wanted to be together with you, to be happy, I loved you…"

            "Iris, it's not too late!" Zero demanded. He took a step forward and held out his hand. "Give me Colonel's power core, I can help you…we can get through this!"

            "LIAR!!" Iris screamed, her voice growing shrill as sanity escaped her then. She took several steps back and shook her head, eyes wild now as she held the power crystal of her brother's strength high.

            "Iris, please don't make me do this…" Zero said, taking a step forward and shaking his head. He even shut down his beam saber and put it away. "Please…"

            "What are you going to do, Zero?" Iris said bitterly. "Kill me, too? Would you kill me because I stand here in your way?"

            "I don't want to…"

            "But you would, Zero. Given the smallest excuse, you WOULD! All I wanted was peace, Zero. I wanted to live in peace, take you away from all of this…"

            "Iris…"

            "But you couldn't stand for it, could you?!" Iris screamed again. "Well then, so be it!" The purple crystal in her hand glowed brighter now, and somehow darker at the same time. Contained within it was all of what had made Colonel so formidable. And without him to counterbalance it, Iris was now facing its full effects, and losing herself in becoming the one person with both personalities. "Very well then, Zero! If your mission is to lead the assault on Final Weapon, then you'll have to go through me!!"

            "Iris, NO!" Zero screamed back, pain in his eyes. "Please, PLEASE don't say that! Don't make me do this!!"

            "We no longer have a choice in the matter." Iris howled back, drawing the crystal in to her body.

            Around the room, scattered bits and pieces of various 'Mechs were drawn to the sudden amalgamation of Colonel's might and Iris's will. Zero watched in horror as Iris entrapped herself within the monstrosity, turning herself into a flying terror.

            And yet as the last armor piece fit into place, something still remained constant.

            The innocence in Iris's voice, returned after being absent for so long.

            "Forgive me, Zero…" She said achingly. And then the flying gargoyle Mech reared its head back.

            "STAY WITH ME, BROTHER!!" 

            X finally stood up after hopping down from the table, running a self diagnostic for one moment before noticing Hazil off in his office, as slouched and as rum drunk as ever.

            But what really stunned him was Zero lying on the cot beside him, somewhat bashed up, but looking minimally acceptable.

            He paused and looked down on the note beside Zero. It was addressed to him...

            _X,_

_            Hazil here. Listen, by the time you finally wake up, I'm gonna be sloshed out of my wits and there's Hell to pay for anyone who wakes me up before the hangover does. But I thought I'd at least bother to write down some stuff for you. Sort of a way for you to catch up on what's been going on while you were sleeping._

_            For one, here's the big kicker, my old friend. I've spent thirteen years piecing you back together, and two days ago was most definitely one of the worst times. _

_            Doc Light knew what the Hell he was doing when he built you. But even though he predicted you'd end up playing the part of hero, he didn't predict you'd be doing it 24/7. Which led of course to the problem of your armor sets degrading. Two days ago, you fried Golden Hyper, Retribution, and even Paladin. Congratulations._

_            You know something? I've discovered a little trick that you and Zero both hold. When one of you gets hurt bad, the other slips into what might be called a rage. A very powerful rage that usually allows one or the other of you to triumph above all else. _

_            But yesterday didn't work out like usual. Let me explain why._

_            We got a call from Sigma and his new breed of Mavericks. Once more, offering a challenge we couldn't exactly refuse. __Battle__ took place in the desert base and surroundings of Overdrive Ostrich's old stomping grounds on Cornus. I assume you can remember that._

_            The elites were sent out this time. No fooling around with the less experienced Hunters…no sense in getting them killed. But as it stood, we took losses. #00 Unit lost four guys and Bastion's 21st lost a third of their men. And the most damage that they were able to do was put that stupid Dolphin Maverick with the plasma hands out of commission. Zero's trick. Sliced off the Mav's hands, and the system backfired, blowing his arms off. Nice how the bastard remembers how plasma overloads are a bad thing. Nicer yet he knows how to instill it in his foes._

_            And then Zero rushed into the abandoned Fortress on his own, and the door shut behind him. Bastion and the other Mavericks spent minutes trying to tear that thing down. Busters weren't cutting it, so Bastion finally went berserk and blew it apart with a lightning strike from his Wings. _

_            By the time they got inside, Zero was already half-dead…for him, at least. Sigma was standing there in the back, watching with glinting eyes shining in madness. Bastion's words, not mine. And the Maverick facing Zero wasn't Sigma. It was someone completely else, someone you and I knew._

_            Iris._

_            Sigma finally found a way to defeat Zero. It wasn't in bringing his Maverick self forth. It wasn't in tapping into his lust for violence._

_            Sigma defeated Zero by quashing that side of him that developed on its own. By dousing the fire instead of blowing on it. Iris has been rebuilt, X, and she's working for Sigma now. _

_            That's why he's in the sorry shape he is. His wounds are more emotional than they are physical. Iris's reappearance has triggered a whole cascade of memories Zero tried to keep hidden._

_            Hell, in a lot of ways, he's too much like me. A lot of crap in his past he doesn't want to face up to, a lot of stuff he keeps hidden. In Zero's case, he's got a heavy load on his shoulders._

_            I wouldn't mention this if I wasn't sure that nobody else was going to read this note but you. Burn it when you're done. _

_            We know now that Zero was the final creation of Doctor Wily, as well as the original carrier of the Maverick Virus. For all purposes, he's the entire reason we have this mess. If Zero had never come along, then you might still be a pacifist, Sigma would probably still be a Maverick Hunter, and all those poor Hunters and Civilians who have died along the way would still be alive._

_            You know it as well as I do. He's your best friend, and he's my patient. And as far as I'm concerned, only you, me, and maybe Bastion and Wycost to an extent are aware of this mess. Wycost's retired, Bastion's a good fellah, and Cain's dead. This is information that we'll carry to the grave._

_            Maybe that's why he fights anymore. Losing Iris was a serious blow to him. After that, maybe he fought because he still felt the bloodlust. The thrumming of his heart that ached for battle. After the Fifth, he knew, like we did, a lot more about everything. Now, I have the feeling that after that he fought more as a sort of penance. He was the reason this mess existed, and it was up to him to set it right._

_            Remember how pathetic Zero was for months after the Repliforce Incident? He loved Iris. And somehow, he ended up having to kill her. I can only see so deep into how his mind works._

_            But I know he's on the rocks, and he needs some healing. And you're the only one who he can get it from._

_            Funny how it works out. Zero was built with the purpose to destroy you. You should have ended up as enemies, if fate had worked the way Wily hoped it would._

_            But it didn't. You're friends. You're the best of friends. And in the end, as sad as it sounds, there'll come a time when there will just be the two of you. The rest of us, Hunters and support crews alike will come and go. It sounds even more morose than some of my previous statements._

_            Realize that I've been piecing you Hunters together for more than a decade. That does little to help my OWN sanity. But that's given me more than enough time to do plenty of thinking. And I know this._

_            WE DIE. Cancer, Jim Dacker, Gearloose, that fool GDC reploid Damien, Bill…And all the others who have died for the cause…_

_            And yet the only people who seem immune to this entire system of life and death is you and Zero. Your charisma, maybe, or perhaps it's that fate has a Hell of a lot more in store for your lives than dying on the battlefield like some basic grunt._

_            There will come a time when all the rest of us will have moved on. And it'll just be you and Zero. So keep that friendship alive. It'll be the only thing left then._

_            Help him, X. Only you can._

_            -Hazil_

_            X took in a deep breath, then shook his head and crumpled the document up. He formed a Buster out of his left hand and discharged a blast at low power, vaporizing the piece of paper but harming nothing else in the room._

            "Well, Zero, I guess the both of us aren't doing as well as we might hope." X mused sadly. "Now would you mind waking up soon? My problem is a lot easier to solve than yours."

            But just from how Zero lay there, X knew that time would be a while.

            Allegro was lying on the roof of J.K. Horn's island mansion and staring at the sky when he saw the warp beam crash down by the front door. He frowned for a moment, then picked himself up and jumped down.

            The figure whipped about, beam lance already drawn and ignited. Likewise, Allegro had his own black bladed beam staff active and ready to attack. But once their eyes met, their hard gazes relaxed and the plasma blades faded out of existence.

            "Geezus, Doan! You gave me a scare for a moment." Allegro sighed in relief, putting his beam staff back away.

            The gray Maverick Hunter pulled his beam lance back and shrugged.

            "Sorry. I was left a message by Wycost to come here."

            "Oh, yeah…Yeah, he did." Allegro thought for a moment. "Horn and I have been working on your Archangel Wings, if I assume correctly that's what you came for."

            "You'd be right." Doan said matter-of factly. He looked past Allegro, then back at him. "How have you been?"

            "I take it a day at a time." Allegro answered back.

            "Do you miss him?" Doan said gently, obviously referring to Andante, Allegro's brother. 

            "Every day." Allegro replied sadly. "But then I realize I have to move on, and Andante did what he did for a reason. Because he cared enough about me to give his life for mine, and I'm not going to betray that gift by not using it to the fullest." Allegro pushed the sadness past him and cracked a smile. "Well, come on then. I'd best show you how our progress goes."

            Allegro walked inside the front door, but Doan allowed himself to linger for a few moments. He turned his head about and examined the island…it appeared on no map, just as it should. If it weren't for Wycost's directions, he would have never found his way here. But it was most definitely pristine.

            A gentle breeze rolled through the air, brushing the light seventy something temperatures that were free of any humidity whatsoever. Palm trees lay around the island's rim, and its total size couldn't have been more than a quarter of a mile both ways. And to top it off, Horn's mansion smack in the middle of it all, with multisegmented rooms, a rack of highly efficient solar cells on the roofline, and other power sources as well…

            "Definitely a sweet setup." Doan grunted. And free of any sort of bureaucratic chain of command that might screw it up. All in all, not a bad place to be. Not a bad place at all.

            Inside the front door of Horn's mansion was the living room, where Wycost lay sprawled across the couch, half asleep. When Allegro walked in, the Bronx Bomber snapped awake and sat back up. 

            Slowly, Doan could sense the eyes behind Wycost's sunglasses were coming out of sleep mode.

            "Hey." Wycost grumbled. "Fancy meeting you here." He stood up and walked over to shake Doan's hand.

            Returning the gesture, the Ghost Wind looked about and nodded thoughtfully.

            "And how long has Horn had this place?"

            "Oh, ever since I got out of the Israeli R&D department and started up URFAWP." Horn said easily, walking into the living room in another generic Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. His oversized Blue Blockers were still in place, barely covering his large robotic eye, and another tropical fruit drink was in his hand. "Of course, I don't think I need to remind you how much of a dent that URFAWP put in my finances, despite the GDC's help. This was what I did with about 10% of my remaining funds after that."

            "So about how much money do you have left to burn??" Wycost said with a snort.

            "Oh, somewhere in the area of 20 Billion or so in Swiss Accounts Allegro hasn't laid eyes on." Horn said in deadpan.

            He chose to ignore the snort of disbelief that echoed his way from Allegro, and to a lesser extent, Wycost. Doan remained in stony silence.

            "So anyhow, Doan." Horn said with an easygoing smile. He walked next to the Ghost Wind and clasped an arm on his shoulder. "It's so good to see you again. I trust you've been well?"

            "I'm fine, but things back at the MHHQ have gotten…interesting, to say the least." Doan added finally.

            "Oh, I'm quite aware of the newest set of developments. What with the GDC sending in Signas and all." Horn replied drily. 

            "Well, there might be hope for him yet." Wycost motioned. "From what little Bastion was able to tell me, when Signas first arrived, he pretty much overpowered everyone. But thanks to Zero's outburst two days ago, that side of Signas has been cowed into the shadows, so to speak. Yesterday, he even bothered to ask for Zero's advice."

            "Intriguing…" Horn mused. "Are you saying that Signas can become more than the drone the GDC built him to be?" He shrugged finally and walked towards another room, motioning with his free hand for the rest of them to follow. "Well, I suppose all things are possible then."

            When they arrived in the next room, Doan almost cracked a smile. There, lying on the table was a set of Flight Wings, designed with the same shape specifications he'd thought of.

            "And these are the things you came for, I assume." Horn motioned with his free hand. Doan stepped next to them, eagerly stretching his hands down and rubbing their unblemished surface. "Everything you asked for, I believe…basic thrusters, limited maglev…your beam lance recharge port is already built into the thing, and it's designed to hook up to your main power supply. You know, your Microfusion Tank. You should be able to fly circles around twips with this. Of course, I'd love to give it an actual field test first…"

            "Huh." Doan grumbled. He reached down and picked it up, noting how light it felt. "Seems kinda lacking durability." As if responding to his statement, the wings vanished from view, slipping into the silvery pack that stood at the center of them.

            "Somehow I doubt that." Horn answered back. "We used ultralightweight metals in the design. And the base of the pack where your wings would rest in outside of normal use is coated with TitaniTefloAlloy. That way, no nasty surprises when somebody shoots you in the back. Trust me, I know how to build things."

            "So why did you make Allegro do it?" Wycost mused dryly. Horn lifted his Blue Blockers up and rolled his eyes.

            "Because he can, too. He just doesn't think he can."

            "Aaw, lay offa me." Allegro said, blushing a bit. 

            "Let's just hope you didn't screw up." Doan added, turning the pack around and touching the activation pad on it.

            In one smooth beam of light, the pack disappeared from Doan's hands and reappeared, integrated with the rest of his body armor. 

            Doan shifted around a bit, popped the wings out, then popped them back in. He nodded and let the Flight Armor vanish away, leaving him in his normal armor.

            "Nice." He said appreciatively. "Integrates with my systems real nice."

            "You can thank Miss Cleo for that." Horn said with a grin. "And I mean your girlfriend, not the psychic."

            "Got a problem against psychics?" Wycost asked, lifting an eyebrow above the rim of his glasses. 

            Horn shrugged. "Just the fake ones that charge money."

            "Right." Wycost replied back, slipping his eyebrow to normal.

            "And in the next room, we have the newest addition to our little shop of horrors." Allegro chirped. "A reploid by the name of Willow."

            "Willow?" Doan asked, turning to Wycost. "Who's Willow?"

            "You know, the…" Wycost began, but caught himself. "Waittasec, I never told you about Willow."

            "Apparently not." Doan said back, folding his arms. "What's the deal?" 

            "In my quest to keep an eye on Bristol for Bastion, I've also bumped into Willow several times. Red hair, green eyes, Irish lilt, plasmic explosive launchers embedded in her wrist gauntlets, beam whip…"

            "Excuse me?" Doan interrupted calmly, a declaration of surprise for him.

            "A Beam. Whip." Wycost went slower. "I know you haven't seen anything like it. Trust me, IT WORKS. But I don't think we'll ever get into shop class anytime soon. Willow seems to know a lot about Bristol. A lot. And she's been trailing Bristol as doggedly as I have. And two days ago, she killed humans."

            "God." Doan mumbled. "Humans?"

            "She nearly died herself out there. But I couldn't let her. Until she gives me all the answers I need to know about Bristol, and just what she might be up to, Willow is better to me alive."

            "So instead of bringing her to the MHHQ, you took her here." Doan surmised. "Not a bad idea at all."

            "And today is the big day for us. We're going to wake Willow back up after her long nap and start asking her some questions." Wycost finished grimly.

            "And just where is she?" Doan queried.

            "The next room." Horn finished for him.

            The room Horn had mentioned was as dark as ever, until he pulled the remote control from his pocket and tapped the lights on. It was then that Doan got his first look at the 'Maverick' Wycost had described. But for once, Doan had very little to say.

            "Wow." He finally motioned. Wycost snorted and stood next to Horn.

            "So? Boot her up. Every second that ticks by is one more I'm not out there trailing Bristol."

            "My, aren't you in a hurry." Horn teased. "But very well." He walked next to Willow and pressed some keys on his datapadd. The reactivation sequence command was sent into Willow's body, and the ex-URFAWP leader stepped back.

            "I think we need a little insurance." Allegro muttered, stepping to the side of the pack of people inside the room and bringing his black beam staff to life.

            Willow slowly came about, flexing one arm for a moment before sensing a sound she had learned to live in fear of.

            Catching every last person in the room by surprise, Willow snapped up as if she was on a spring. As if responding to her, the beam whip lying on the table beside Wycost vanished in a puff of light and reappeared in her hand…warped, no doubt.

            Before Allegro could make a move to the contrary, Willow had snapped her beam whip on and severed off his saber hand with a deft snap. But there the violence stopped.

            Everyone sort of stood there for several moments, too stunned at what had happened to make a move. And then Allegro shrieked.

            "MY HAND! Goddamnit, YOU SLICED OFF MY HAND!!"

            And there his hand lay…the circuitry lying bare for all to see with its severed purple blood vessels that indicated all too clearly how severe the damage had been.

            "Oh, God…You're reploid…" Willow mumbled in shock.

            Doan was on top of her in a flash, sending the beam whip skittering in another direction as he pinned her knees to the floor and held her arms behind her back.

            Wycost drily lifted his sunglasses and looked at her.

            "In the future, don't chop my friends' arms off." There was a glimmer of disgust in his eyes then. "It doesn't exactly help to positively influence your track record."

            Willow grunted and strained against Doan, fire burning in her eyes.

            "Get off of me!" She growled. Doan tightened his grip.

            "You have GOT to be kidding me. After what you pulled on Allegro?"

            "Look, I didn't know he was a reploid, I thought he was…"

            "Human?" Wycost interjected bitterly. "Don't think I've forgotten what you did."

            "God, are all you Hunters this shortsighted?!" Willow snapped. 

            "Watch it there, babe. I'm a Hunter." Doan interjected, tightening his grip on her arms. The added side effect to his keeping her arms immovable was that it pushed her upper chest forth and arched her back, making it hard for even the stoic Wycost to keep his eyes above her neck.

            "I could have killed you out there, you know." Wycost finally said, crossing his arms.

            Willow looked up from the ground, eyes defiant behind her slightly mussed red hair. "So why didn't you?"

            "Because you have answers, and I've got questions. And they concern Bristol."

            "God, you're still after that angle…" Willow growled defiantly. She turned her head partway around and glared at Doan. "Would you PLEASE let me go?"

            "Sorry, not planning to anytime soon." Doan said back. 

            Horn was kneeling next to Allegro, who lay on the floor with his one functioning hand clutching onto his stump of an arm. 

            "Give me a couple of hours, I'll have Allegro's hand back on." He promised easily. The kit of repair tools and equipment beside him was powerful evidence he could indeed carry through on his promise.

            "So just what exactly do you want to know?" Willow sighed. Wycost's eyes were hard.

            "Everything. Why you're after Bristol."

            "I'm after Bristol to save her."

            "Like Hell…"

            "SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND LISTEN!!" Willow screamed at him. Her green eyes flared out, fuming beyond mere disgust. There was fear in them then. It subdued Wycost, at least, and Willow continued. "Look, despite what you may believe, I'M not the one out to cause harm to Bristol. She lost her memory about everything…And now there's people after her who want nothing better than to end her life. Simply because of what she is, and what she knows."

            "People?" Wycost asked back, narrowing his gaze. "Next, you're going to tell me those humans you killed in Alaska were the ones after her."

            "One of many." Willow murmured. "Those were just two among an elite group of one hundred."

            "Oh, fer Chrissakes…" Allegro growled, weakly waving his only functioning hand. "You're going to actually believe this shit? SHE SLICED MY HAND OFF!!" 

            Whatever retorts or comebacks might have been issued were silenced by a sudden frantic chittering from the ceiling.

            Wycost and Doan's faces went to the ceiling, both of their faces instantly cold as stone.

            "And just what does that little sound mean?" Doan murmured.

            Horn took off his Blue Blockers and frowned darkly.

            "Unauthorized warp transfer, fifty miles out. It triggered when Doan got here too, but my outside monitors allowed me to get an all clear on him."

            "So who is it this time?"

            "THEM." Willow said, her face shining in fear and hatred at the same time. "The people after Bristol…they've come here."

            "What? Why would they come here?!" Wycost snapped. "Bristol isn't here, she…" Wycost stopped himself, and Willow spoke up softly.

            "But I'm here. And as pathetic as it is, they're after me as well." She turned her head one last time to Doan. "Now, unless you all fancy being sliced to ribbons for no good reason, ye'd best free me." Wycost looked at Doan and nodded his head slowly.

            Once Doan's grip on her arms was loosened, Willow was back on her feet in one fluid motion. She checked herself over for a few moments and harrumphed.

            "Whoever patched me up…ye did a fantastic job."

            "Oh, that'd be me." Horn ventured, offering a somewhat lackluster smile. "J.K. Horn, eccentric engineer at your service."

            "Wycost I know." Willow grunted back. "Now, who's the unlucky chap I de-handed?"

            "The name's Allegro. And can I ask why you pulled that?"

            "Instinct." Willow said, her eyes darkening. "You just had to use a black bladed beam staff, didn't you?" She reached down and scooped it up for a moment. Her eyes flared for a brief moment before she placed it beside him. "This is one of MI9's. Just where in the blazes did you come across this?!"

            "Train shipment." Allegro muttered weakly. "My brother and I stole them while the sucker was still moving."

            "Unbelievable." Willow said, shaking her head. 

            "MI9?" Wycost asked, crossing his arms. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something clicked…that night, so very long ago, with the last mission he had performed in the service of the Maverick Hunters…a night that led to him coming back and having to deal with Bastion being crushed by the news of Bristol's departure, and her mad search of an unknown past that connected to a thing she called 'MI9'. "Are you telling me that…"

            "Precisely." Willow finished. She stared at Wycost. "You were sent to look for Bristol because she is very special to a friend of yours."

            "She's Bastion's fiancée." Wycost defended. Willow cracked a grin at that.

            "Fiancee? Oh, that's rich…" The smile faded quickly. "But let me tell you something. The past she left behind SHOULD have been left behind. Nothing good ever came from back then. Nothing."

            "You knew her?"

            "She was my partner." Willow murmured. "God, I never thought it would come to this. But it's all started again, no matter how hard we tried to avoid it…"

            The chirping grew louder.

            "They're fifteen seconds out!" Horn said louder this time. He looked at them anxiously. "If these people are unfriendly, it would be best if you got moving NOW."

            "Allegro, do you have enough energy to fight?" Willow said sharply, turning her head down. 

            "Are you kidding me?" Allegro muttered, lifting his head and turning his glazed eyes to her. "Getting a part of yourself hacked off isn't exactly peachy for your health. ESPECIALLY IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANY HEART TANKS."

            "Just thought I'd ask." Willow said darkly, reaching for her beam whip and grasping it firmly. "Because these fellows don't fool around."

            It was Wycost, Doan, and a newly awakened Willow that appeared out in front of Horn's mansion to face the incoming hordes. 

            And five appeared there. Five very angry, and very well cloaked figures, donned from head to toe in black that hid their true physique as well as their faces.

            Horn clambered onto the roof, a stun Buster latched onto his right arm. With one narrowed eye, he stared down at the masses below. This didn't look good…not one bit.

            "Willow." The leader of the five MI9 operatives said loudly, stepping forth and pointing. "You've caused us a lot of grief."

            "This coming from the warriors that would instill genocide. You want sympathy? Visit a talk show." Willow snapped back. 

            The five figures pulled back their black hoods to reveal their faces. Three male, two female. But every one of them had a sheen in their eyes that betrayed the intelligence they carried.

            Pure venom seemed to burn through them. A venom beyond logic…pure, undying hatred that never stopped. It chilled Wycost. Even the ironhearted Doan had to shiver at the sight.

            Willow merely scoffed and extended her beam whip's metal links out.

            "What? Aren't you going to summon The Trembling?"

            "We don't need the added effect of Berserker Beacons to slag you." One of the females, a redhead in the back snorted. "It's five against four. You don't stand a chance."

            In unison, every one of the MI9 operatives ignited their beam staffs, causing ten black blades of light to appear in the tropical sun. 

            "It's not easy tracking you down, Willow. You're a hard person to find. But now that part of the problem is done with, and you're dead…You're just a loose end."

            "Enough talk. I'm your only way to get to Bristol, and I'm never squealing." Willow challenged bitterly.

            At that, the operative laughed.

            "Oh, you are so utterly pathetic…you don't realize it, do you? WE ALREADY HAVE BRISTOL."

            That statement caught Willow completely off guard. She had been prepared for their threats. For their taunts and jeers, and their utter hatred. But not that.

            Not the news that they had Bristol.

            "No." She said. But it wasn't in the defiant tone that everyone on the island had grown accustomed to. It wasn't even in the initial somewhat cheerful disposition that Wycost had first heard Willow's voice in. It was quiet, empty, and hollow…

            "NO." She said, louder this time. Her eyes glazed back over, and she shook her head. "There is NO WAY that you have Bristol."

            "Oh, but we do." The leader of the five said, his tone brimming with malice. "Lem and Earl picked her up just outside of Juneau. Locked her in on the Beacon, ran her out of town, then dragged her in."

            "You sick…" Willow hissed, shaking her head. "Why didn't you just end her life out there instead of dragging her back to the HQ?"

            "We have our reasons." The leader said, his voice growing sterner now. "But those don't concern you now. You don't have the time to worry about Bristol's trials. You have your own to deal with."

            At that, Willow ignited her beam whip and cracked it on the ground with a resounding snap. Likewise, Doan pulled out his beam lance and brought it to life, and Wycost formed his Buster, making sure to set his weapons to his blinding Strobe. He dropped his glasses down and stared ahead.

            "As long as I live, you shall never triumph." Willow choked out, nostrils flaring. 

            The leader cracked a half smile and shook his head.

            "Well…You're not going to be living much longer."

            Bristol snapped awake with a gasp. Or, at least she tried to. In horror, she found that she was unable to move her arms or legs. Only her neck muscles could respond to her command, allowing her to crane her neck in almost every direction. She looked down, and realized why.

            She was restrained to a table. There was a smell in the air, a clean, antiseptic smell that filled the room, mixing with the distinctive scent of ozone. 

            "Aah, finally awake, I see." Came a somewhat scratchy voice from not far off.

            Bristol's head jerked about in surprise, staring at the sound of the voice. But its owner was hidden in a patch of shadows in a corner of the room.

            "Where am I?!" Bristol nearly screamed. "Who are you?!"

            "Next you're going to ask, 'Why am I not dead after being attacked by those two men on the outskirts of Juneau, especially considering how dead frightened I was?'" The voice called amusedly. "But I assure you, dear Bristol, there is answers for all these things. There are answers for everything that's ever troubled you."

            "Who are you??" Bristol asked again, quieter this time, but with the fear in her voice still intact.

            "Oh, come now…surely, you must remember me. For the longest time, I WORKED with you. Well, perhaps I was more of your supervisor, I never got that part straight…For now, let's just say I'm an old friend." The figure waved his hand in the air and chuckled. "But let's get to your other questions first. For one, why aren't you dead? That's simple enough. You know something we need. Next, why are you shackled to the table? Once you remember enough, that question will answer itself."

            At that, the figure stepped out of the shadows, and into the room's lights. His haggard face was nearly aglow in anticipation, causing Bristol to cringe. But then she did a double take…and let her jaw drop as something deep in the back of her mind began to click home.

            "Ta…Tarkin?" Bristol called out hesitatingly. Tarkin's eyes flashed in joy and he rubbed his hands together.

            "Amazing! Simply amazing! Despite the fact you've fried your memories, you still manage to pull back my nomenclature!"

            "I…" Bristol began, then stopped and shook her head. "I don't understand." Her eyes went glassy. "Just what is going on here?"

            "Well, I think we can answer the rest of your questions. You are back where you began, Bristol. The main headquarters of MI9. It was months ago that you and another one in the R & D Department managed to escape us. We've been looking for you ever since. And lo and behold, who should show up in the nick of time but our dear old mad scientist Bristol?"

            "Mad scientist??" Bristol croaked uneasily. "Just what are you talking about?" Tarkin looked surprised for a moment, then reared his head back and laughed. Long and loud and hard.

            When he finally returned back to normal and cleared the redness from his eyes, he chortled a bit. "You must have done a better job constructing those memory wipers than we thought possible. You truly were one of our best and brightest. But I assure you, my old friend, all will become clear soon enough."

            "What do you mean?" Bristol mumbled. Tarkin's eyes took on a venomous look at that.

            "Oh, it's quite simple. We need some information that only you know…or KNEW, as the case now is. So in order to access it, we need to reverse the effects of your memory wiper. Connect all those scattered, random tidbits of memory that have undoubtedly appeared from time to time." His index fingers pressed against one another as he talked, a tic from the madness in his mind. "And I told you that eventually, you would be able to answer your own questions. I wasn't lying, old friend. Retrieving our information will cause every other memory in your mind to restore itself. It never left you…you simply lost any ability to remember it."

            "Just what is a memory wiper? And how do you intend on carrying out this process?!" Bristol demanded frantically. "I've examined myself. That chunk of data in my memory banks is unreadable. UNREADABLE!!"

            "Only because you made it so." Tarkin corrected her firmly. He turned to the ceiling and snapped his fingers.

            At his command, the ceiling tiles parted a ways to allow a cumbersome ray of some sort to descend down. It hung over Bristol's head menacingly, seemingly a tool of the damned.

            "This is what we'll use to bring your memories back up to speed." Tarkin said confidently. "Meet the antithesis to your memory wipers…The ReMemorizer."

            Tarkin turned about and walked into the shadows once again. Bristol drew in several deep breaths, shaking her head and holding her eyes tightly shut.

            "No. This isn't real. This isn't real, it's all a nightmare…And I'll wake up, and I won't be here, I'll be back with Bastion…"

            "Oh, so THAT'S the fellow's name in that picture with you." Tarkin's voice rang out. He laughed a bit. "I was wondering why you carried it around in that locket. Now I know. You managed to find love while you were gone…Well, too bad it never lasts. Nothing ever does."

            The room's lights began to dim down, until only the illumination of the conical device pointing at Bristol's head gave her something for her eyes to look at.

            "I assure you, Bristol. This is no dream. You've been living in a dream, and I'm about to give you a very rude wakeup call." Tarkin laughed darkly. "Bristol…welcome back to Hell."

            A blinding flash overtook everything…

            And then Bristol remembered.

            She remembered everything.

            "Fannir?" Bristol called out from her desk. Instantly, the red and violet colored reploid stopped where he was walking and made a beeline. Within moments, he was standing beside her, primping himself and brushing back his hair. 

            "What can I do for you, my sweet?" Bristol rolled her eyes.

            "For one, kill your libido. And two, could you tell me where Willow made off to? I've got a few questions for her."

            "Oh, if I recall, she mentioned something about giving those new bio-implants a run for their money."

            "Those bio-implants are designed to enhance HUMAN performance." Bristol muttered. "Doesn't that Irish irregular remember that? It was in my design notes, for Jiminy's sake."

            "Oh, she knows just as well as the rest of us do. I said she was giving THEM a run for their money." Bristol reconsidered Fannir's statement, then slapped her head.

            "Of all the…" She stood up, almost fuming now. "I'm buried deep in the final pre-production notes of human warp transfer capabilities, and she's FIGHTING WITH THE BIO-IMPLANT TEST GROUP?!"

            She grabbed her datapadd and stormed off, Fannir following close behind. 

            The passageways of MI9's main building were almost a maze to the untrained wanderer. Take one wrong turn, and you'd end up in the warp chamber conduits that reploids used to get from MI9 base to base instead of the cafeteria, the R&D labs, or the controlled condition rooms.

            For the moment, Bristol needed only get to the controlled rooms. That was where they held tests on the most revolutionary equipment. The gaze on her face bordered on murderous. Far too often Willow had done other things like this. She was positively BOTHERSOME…

            "Hey, take it easy on her!" Fannir called out from somewhere behind. Even when he was running, he had a tough time keeping up with Bristol's furious pace. And she wasn't even using dash thrusters. "It wasn't her idea! The suits wanted to give it a go!"

            That stopped her pace for a moment. But only a moment, as her anger switched its attentions and she kept going. 

            "There are times these bureaucrats give me fits. What, do they think we have nothing better to do than jump around like monkeys? Next, they'll be throwing us bananas for performing parlor tricks." She fumed.

            Willow kept her gray beam saber held in both hands, edging around the room with her eyes flickering this way and that. There were three of them…one of her…never good odds.

            Her three opponents were human, each armed with their own beam saber. All of them were tuned down to low power settings, tightening the EM field so much and decreasing the plasma output that whoever got smacked would feel little more than a quick sensation of heat, much like one would expect if they grabbed a freshly rinsed piece of flatware.

            Up above the combat room, in an observation room with a large one way window looking down, several men sat and watched anxiously. Among them was the noted GDC Representative Emilius Cristoph. Dr. Tarkin stood beside the window, speaking so that his voice might add to the demonstration.

            "As you can see, the 'bio-implants' as they're called, are designed to enhance human capabilities. Reaction time, speed, power…Enough so that they can become equal to, if not stronger than the average reploid."

            Willow's green eyes refused to let the three of them intimidate her. But she knew Geoffrey, Tim, and Jowers were good. Very good. She'd seen them in action before, but never with bio-implants.

            It was a completely different ballgame with them armed with newfound abilities. Tim charged in, screaming and waving his own dimmed beam saber with a blood curdling shriek. Willow ducked down to avoid his immediate stab, but found herself tumbling backwards to avoid the downswipe that followed. Silently, she cursed at herself as she got back up to her feet. She should have been able to block that attack…

            "Nice moves, boys. But you're still short of the mark." 

            Geoffrey laughed at that.

            "Not today, Willow. We're armed, dangerous, and raring to go."

            "But you're still human." Willow said with a waspish smile, zig-zagging her beam saber in the air a few times as easily as she might wave a fencing foil. 

            And then they charged in again.

            Up above, Cristoph narrowed his hawkish eyes at Tarkin.

            "So how much do these 'bio-implants' enhance human performance factors?"

            "In most cases, their reaction time is improved by as much as fifty times, they can jog at bursts of sixty miles an hour for fifteen seconds at a time, and withstand far greater abuse."

            "Just where are these bio-implants located?" Asked another MI9 member, watching the fight below with wary eyes.

            "Well, of course there's the central one we insert into the brain. Then there are smaller nodules for the eyes, the hands, the muscles of the arms and legs…"

            "There is…one thing that concerns me." Another MI9 member brought up, lifting his spectacles from the rim of his nose to look at Tarkin directly. "You said 'in most cases'. Have there been times where the procedure of using bio-implants did not go as planned?"

            That was where Tarkin hesitated.

            "WELL?!" The MI9 member asked again, this time his voice utterly demanding an answer.

            "There have been…unfavorable outcomes at times." Tarkin finally admitted, his face growing a little paler. "First activation of the bio-implants creates an incredible amount of strain on every single part of the human body. It's not just adding mechanical parts for interaction. A part of the process is changing the chemical composition of the body, to allow for more effective use of the new equipment."

            "In layman's terms, Doctor." The MI9 agent growled, folding his arms. "I have to write a report on this to the Supreme Council later. I'd like to know the precise risks."

            "In short, there have been rare cases where the changes brought about by the bio-implants resulted in madness, paranoia, insanity…" Tarkin's voice grew softer, until he finally shrugged. "You get the idea."

            "Then it would seem this project has far more risks than it does benefits." The last MI9 agent announced.

            "Not so, sir." Came a new voice. Everyone turned about, and Tarkin looked flabbergasted to find himself staring at the reploid in pink and blue, with long blond hair, pink highlights, and a very angry foot tapping on the ground. She stepped up next to Tarkin and bowed. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. I wasn't informed of today's impromptu test of the bio-implants. My name is Bristol…I am the one who designed them."

            "A REPLOID built these?" Cristoph muttered, his face darkening. Bristol stared right back at him, face unwavering. She'd dealt with him before. Anti-reploid extremist in MI9, and a real ignoble jerk to boot. But he no longer frightened her.

            "Believe it or not, reploids are capable of many wonderful things." Bristol chirped. "We don't all have grand plans of human genocide on our minds, despite what Sigma and the Mavericks might imply." She pointed down to the group below. "Tarkin has informed you of some of the rare cases. I would like to allay your fears, if I may." She turned to face them directly and folded her arms. "When we first began testing the bio-implants on some of our human test subjects, we got mixed responses. Some people's physical bodies accepted the changes brought about easily. Others, as Tarkin has mentioned, went completely off kilter." She stepped closer to the window and pointed down. "The reason is simple. Some humans just have the right brain chemistry for the procedure, and some don't." She pointed below. "Take those three, for instance. Geoffrey and Tim in particular showed excellent results, with no alterations whatsoever to their pre-existing memories or temperaments. From the successful cases, we've built a model to test all prospective bio-implant candidates with. If they don't match the neurological specifications shared by our positive cases, then the bio-implants would cause harm to them. In this way, we've minimalized casualties."

            "And yet you've still taken losses."

            "There were scientists and engineers long before I lived that once helped to discover the wonders of radioactivity…as well as its not so desirable effects." She shook her head. "Losses come with the exploration of new terrority, I'm sorry to say."

            "Wait on a second, the fight's heating up!" Cristoph said, his voice filled with a sudden exhilarating joy.

            Everyone turned to watch.

            Willow dashed to the side to avoid Geoffrey's thrust, and found herself facefirst into a wide slash offered by Tim. She let out a cry of surprise and jumped back, only to be kicked forward by the waiting Jowers.

            _Damn, just where in blazes did he come from…_

_            She righted herself as quickly as possible and did a full 360 sweep slash about, sending Tim and Geoffrey jumping backwards to avoid it. But they returned quickly, beam sabers raised in unison for an attack to level her, and Jowers charging from behind._

            "Not today, boys!" Willow said defiantly, jumping up into the air and igniting her double time variable air-dash, pushing herself higher and higher up beyond their reach.

            But then Geoffrey pulled a move that caught the adept warrior completely by surprise. Defying all gravity, he burst towards the nearby wall at breakneck speed, slamming feetfirst into it and jumping off as he might have done if it had been the floor. Willow had no chance to react before he was upon her, slashing in midair to stop her rapid retreat and send her sprawling back towards the hard floor below. Her armor screamed at her, a blistering heat mark pronounced across her entire torso from the strike. 

            _Blast it, if that had been real, I'd be dead…_

            Grunting, Willow landed flat on her back to find three separate beam sabers held against her neck. She shut her eyes for a moment and sighed, shutting her own weapon off.

            "All right boys…you win this round." Geoffrey, Tim, and Jowers all smirked at each other for a few gloating moments before turning around and walking out of the room.

            "Next time, Willow, you won't be so lucky." Jowers taunted one final time. Willow cracked an easy grin and shook a fist at them. 

            "Next time, I'll know to expect ANYTHING."

            "Well, I'm impressed." Cristoph said, rubbing his hands together as if he'd just opened a Christmas present. He turned to the others, face aglow. "I don't see any problems as to why this project can't be carried out to its fullest. Just what were you thinking of, exactly, Doctor?" He addressed his question to Tarkin, of course, completely ignoring Bristol. The brilliant reploid scientist fumed for a moment before clearing her throat and gaining their attention.

            "Once we have completed the test phase, the production phase of the bio-implant project would call for precisely one hundred MI9 agents to undergo the procedure. Discounting Jowers, Geoffrey, and Tim, this gives us a need for 97 more to create a perfect one hundred. We would divide them into teams of two, giving MI9 fifty bio-implant equipped teams to rely on."

            "And just what would these enhanced humans do, exactly?"

            "About the same duties as reploids currently hold, I imagine." Bristol said. She turned to them, hardly believing that some of these suits were so dense they couldn't see the grand vision. "MI9 has always prided itself on having eyes and ears everywhere. With enhanced humans carrying out those duties, you will have the same spy network. Only with abilities rivaling a reploid's. I don't need to explain further the benefits this poses, do I?"

            "No. No, you don't." Cristoph chuckled. "A job well done, reploid. A job well done."

            "My name is BRISTOL." Bristol said tersely. Cristoph's smile faded a bit, and she added the perfunctory, "Sir."

            "So it is, so it is…" Cristoph murmured begrudgingly. He turned to the other MI9 bureacurats and nodded. "I believe we've seen enough, gentlemen. Who's up for drinks at my place?"

            They walked out, leaving a fuming Bristol, a worried Tarkin, a puzzled Fannir, and a very groused Willow behind.

            Willow turned to the exit door as it hissed open, letting Bristol walk in.

            "Why, hello the…"

            "QUIET." Bristol fumed, holding a finger at Willow. "You just be quiet and listen. I wasn't prepared for that presentation. And you sure as Hell weren't, either."

            "I didn't exactly have a choice, dearie!" Willow said back annoyed. "Like it or not, we jump when they say so."

            "What, so you volunteered yourself into the line of fire?" Bristol fumed. "Look, what if there had been a mistake today? What if one of their beam sabers hadn't been set to low power? What if they'd somehow gone berserk and torn your head off?!"

            "I highly doubt that, Brist." Willow said back drily, tucking her beam saber away. "Geoffrey, Jowers and Tim may be guinea pig recruits from one of the worst prisons in the world, but they're hardly psychotic."

            "Umm, if I may say something…" Came Tarkin's voice from behind. Both reploids turned and snapped, 

            "WHAT?!!" At the same time. Tarkin jumped back, then nervously began to push his index fingers together as he spoke. 

            "Look, this may not be the best time, but Bristol, it doesn't do to exacerbate your already sour relationship with Representative Cristoph."

            "Representative Cristoph is a racist pig who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut." Bristol snapped back.

            "Even so, he is one of the most influential men in our organization's outreach community. He carries a lot of clout because of his position in the world order."

            "Whatever." Bristol murmured, shaking her head. "Just…whatever. Look, I'm not going to be cooling down anytime soon. I'm going to get myself a drink before I punch a hole in the wall."

            She excused herself and left. But Willow somehow decided to tag along, much to Bristol's chagrin.

            "What is it now, Willow?" Bristol muttered lowly.

            "Look, I…" Willow began, stopping herself and grabbing ahold of Bristol's arm to stop her deliberate, angry march. "Look. I'm sorry for what happened today. But it wasn't my fault, and I certainly didn't intend on getting killed today."

            "Just be more careful." Bristol said, her eyes tired. "You're one of the few people in this organization I give a damn about. I don't want to lose you to a lab accident."

            "It's no secret I'm better in a fight than I am in a lab." Willow replied. "But I'm not about to go dying on you. No, as long as I have to worry about you, I'm afraid I'm stuck living."

            The two cracked a smile at that. Bristol finally released her tensions in a long sigh and shrugged her shoulders.

            "Well, work can wait. What are you up for?"

            "Is that really a question that needs asking?" Willow said, lifting an eyebrow.

            The two of them shouted the answer at the same time.

            "IRISH COFFEE!!"

            "Sigma?" Came Iris's quiet voice.

            "Yes?" he answered back, turning his head about to hear who was addressing him. His eyes quieted down when he saw it was his favorite Maverick. "What can I do for you, Iris?"

            "I…Had a question." Iris replied uneasily. She dug her toe into the concrete floor of their underground facility and shook her head. "When I fought Zero yesterday, how did he know me?" Sigma stood there for a few moments, as if pondering her question. But then his eyes grew dim and his face dropped.

            "I knew this time would come." Sigma answered back heavily, turning around and shaking his head. "Follow me into the lounge."

            It was empty. So Sigma had little trouble occupying one of the larger seats in the room and offering Iris a chair more comparable to her smaller size. She primly crossed her legs, and Sigma rested his arms on his seat's armrests.

            "The reason he knows you Iris, is because you have lived once before. When I pulled you from that capsule, you were being reborn."

            "Who was I?" Iris whispered, her eyes growing large. Sigma blinked a few times, his red eyes almost holding sadness in them.

            "A martyr. An innocent that got caught in the conflict." Sigma shook his head. "When the Fourth Maverick Uprising began, you pleaded and begged for Zero not to fight. But he wouldn't listen. Zero is nothing more than a heartless warrior, made so since he was activated. He didn't listen to you then. He killed you. In cold blood, Iris, he killed you. For all the hope you held that he might have a good spirit somewhere inside of him, he killed you. And then I was left to mourn your passing." Sigma shut his eyes. "I didn't want you to get caught in it. Not then. You always followed your heart. You were pure, untainted by deception or greed. I missed you more ever day after that."

            "Sigma…" Iris said, her optics shining a little brighter as she got out of her seat and stepped towards him. "I'm sorry."

            "Sorry that you died? You could have done nothing more. You were innocent, naïve…and in the end, you paid for his treachery." Sigma let out a ragged breath, looking sadder than ever. "That's why he was so shocked when he saw you. Because he thought you were dead. He had killed you. And I brought you back…it was too much for him."

            "And next time?" Iris said quietly, hopping up to his seat's armrest and leaning in close to his face, her eyes shining into his.

            "And next time, Iris…I shall avenge you. For your sake, I will destroy Zero."

            Iris smiled, a sweet innocent smile that betrayed her tender heart and the warped reality she believed in. Before Sigma could make a move to the contrary, she had leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

            And somehow, Sigma kept the embrace, pulling his massive hand about to run through her long brown hair. It was an unbelievable emotion that coarsed through him.

            But never in his dark heart did he forget why he was doing this.

            _Revenge…_

            Zero looked a sorry sight. His armor was torn asunder from the floating mines Iris had unleashed. But luckily, for the most part he had dodged the massive laser cannon attached to her arm. Still, that did little to help him.

            Iris, ensnared within the confines of the gargoyle 'Mech, slowly moved towards him, feet hanging from the ground as she moved by thrusters alone. Another wave of mines flew out from the misshapen 'Mech, moving towards Zero with nothing but hostile intentions in mind.

            "Iris, PLEASE!!" Zero screamed again. But even as he screamed that plea, a part of him knew she couldn't respond. That she was too far gone, that Colonel's power had driven her insane. 

            _And it's all my fault, God forgive me, but it's my fault…_

            _"NOO!!__ YOU MURDERER, IT ENDS HERE!! YOU WON'T GET ANY FURTHER!!" _

            The mines drew closer, and Zero slashed them to pieces before they could go off beside him. And still another wave drew nearer…

            _"REPLIFORCE WANTED **PEACE!! Tell me, WHY CAN'T YOU AND THE HUNTERS AND THE GDC ACCEPT THAT?!"**_

            And Zero had no answer for her then. It had all been nothing but a mess. People throwing accusations, passing on blame…And Repliforce was the group that suffered the punishment. 

            But Zero had to live. He had to. Something deep inside him screamed that no matter what happened, his own life came before all else. 

            He threw down a Rakuhouha pellet, letting the wide dispersal of plasmic explosives wipe out the mines. One blast even managed to fly on and slice off about three inches of the 'Mech's massive foot. 

            No words were spoken after that. Just screams. 

            Iris leveled her laser cannon, charged up, and fired. Zero barely made it to the wall in time to avoid the blistering beam, and then had to force himself to make a dash jump to clear a second beam that went completely vertical up after him.

            He landed in front of the 'Mech and held his saber high…bringing it across the length of its chest in one mighty slash.

            It was then that something odd happened, startling Zero for the briefest of moments. The purple power crystal that had belonged to Colonel emerged from the 'Mech.

            Zero's mind was a mess by that point. Iris's attacks had dropped him below half of his total Internal Operations Energy, and his grief, disbelief, and anger were all intertwined into a bittersweet mixture that drugged his thoughts.

            And then he snapped. As if something else took over, all doubts and fears in his mind faded away like vapors. Leaving only the power crystal floating before him, the realization that if he were to destroy it, this would all end, and the knowledge that his beam saber lay ready and capable in his grip.

            No words. No final cry. Just the action. Zero's saber grew brighter, flaring in that defiant moment as he jammed it clean through the power crystal, forever destroying it. It cracked from the blow, then collapsed to the ground as shards. 

            But then Iris screamed. A long, painful scream, as if Zero had jammed his beam saber into her, and not her brother's power core. It broke him free of his trance, and Zero stood agape for a few moments before he realized what had happened.

            And then when the explosion blew the 'Mech apart, Zero went with it, impacting into the wall with a sickening crunch. 

            Silence filled the room then. Zero's beam saber hissed off, and he put it back into its recharge sheathe. And then the guilt of what had transpired hit him.

            Running from the shadows, he went to where he'd last seen Iris…trapped within the mess of the gargoyle 'Mech. 

            And there she lay. Unmoving, surrounded in a pile of rubble.

            "Iris…" Zero called out disbelievingly, his eyes quiet and forlorn. He ran next to her, lifted her head, shook her. "IRIS!!"

            _God, please no…Iris, don't be dead…_

_            He didn't know what had took him. But it frightened him then. What he'd done._

            _God, what have I done…_

_            But she moved, a gentle trembling throughout her body. It wasn't much…but she was alive._

            Her head tilted towards him, her eyes opened. Faint, weak…And somehow, Zero knew she was dying. He'd seen it before. That silent weakness in a reploid's eyes. Countless times. And each time he saw it, he was powerless to stop it.

            "Zero…" She whispered. 

            "Iris…" Zero said back, trying his hardest to fight the tears that threatened to spring to his eyes. But he knew from how she was that Colonel's power was no longer controlling her thoughts, warping them. By destroying Colonel's power core, he eliminated that second presence that had caused Iris to go insane…yet, at the same time, he had forced her into death. She'd been fused with the power. Without it, it was just a matter of time now.

            "Zero…stay away from Repliforce." Iris pleaded, eyes sadder now. "Please…too much suffering has come about. Just for once, can't you stop fighting?"

            "Iris, I'm sorry…" Zero confessed, a tear rolling out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head, trying to clear it away.

            "Let's live together, in a world where only reploids exist…" Iris pleaded with him. "Please, Zero…for me, stop fighting."

            "There is no world just for reploids, Iris." Zero replied back, feeling his own heart break. "It's only a fantasy!"

            "I know, but…I wanted to believe it!" Iris nearly sobbed then. "I just wanted to live in that world…with you…" Her hand came up, as if reaching to caress his face one final time. Zero clasped his hands around it, holding her tightly.

            "Iris…" Zero choked out, looking down into her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

            "I'm dying, Zero. I'm going to die." Iris said, her eyes growing dimmer as a tear rolled out of them. "I don't want to die. I'm so scared…I'm so alone…"

            "You're not alone, Iris." Zero said, squeezing her hand tighter. He sniffed for a moment and shook his head. "No, you're not alone. I'm here, Iris…I love you…"

            It was what she had wanted to hear all along, Zero realized. And then he realized another thing…that he'd been wanting to say that for a very long time.

            A contented smile filled her face then, and she sighed a sigh of happiness and relief.

            "Zero…"

            And then she died. Her eyes drooped shut, her smile faded, her head fell back to the ground.

            "…Iris?" Zero whispered, not believing his eyes. But when her limp hand fell from his grasp and hit the ground, he panicked. He grabbed her shoulders, shook her. "Iris! IRIS!!"

            And nothing came. Zero completely broke down at that moment. 

            _Iris…no, not Iris…I killed her, I killed her…_

_            "No, this isn't happening!! There's no reason for me to go on, what…" He stood up, cradling her dead body in his arms and tilted his head back. "WHAT AM I FIGHTING FOR?!!!"_

            No answer came to him. Just empty, winding silence. Zero felt weak then. All the life drained out of him, and he slumped to his knees, Iris's body rolling back to the ground. He just knelt there, staring down at her, the tears from his eyes dropping at their slow pace, wetting the metallic hem of her dress.

            And then off in the distance, beyond the next revolving gateway, came a sound Zero didn't expect.

            Clapping. Slow and deliberate clapping.

            Zero turned his head, hardly even caring that someone else was nearby. Until the voice spoke up.

            "So you've done it. You've killed her." It was low, dark, almost scratchy. And it carried both a trace of disgust and cruel irony.

            Zero's eyes focused on who had said it. And despite the tears, his jaw hardened and his hands clenched up. "Sigma…"

            "Well, I always knew you were a ruthless son of a bitch, Zero." Sigma snorted, coming out of the shadows. And yet even then his figure was wrapped in uncertainty, his face within the confines of a deep hood, his body clothed in a tattered shroud. "Now, you've even gone and killed the one you loved. And just what did it gain you, Zero? Another inkblot to add to your ever increasing tally?"

            "Sigma, you should have died…" Zero croaked, shaking his head. "Two years ago…I hit you with that antivirus…"

            "Constructed by Doppler, I remember." Sigma said, red eyes flaring for a brief moment. "And don't you remember that the fool thought he had discovered a cure? Well, he had…he had found a way to destroy the weak version of the Maverick Virus. But he could never contend with my full strength. That's how I infected him, how I infected them all. It was only a matter of time, Zero. Only a matter of time before I grew strong enough and stretched out once more. For you see, I can't die." Sigma's eyes flashed. "And do you know why?"

            "You're a monster!!" Zero shouted, standing up in front of Iris, as if in some way trying to protect her.

            "And just what are you, then?" Sigma retorted, lifting a hand up and pointing an accusing finger at him. "The bleeding angel on high? Zero, you have no idea of the bloody past you carry."

            "And just what would you know about my past, Sigma?!" Zero shouted, drawing his beam saber out and igniting it. But Sigma said only one word. A word with so much power behind it that it stopped him dead in his tracks.

            "Everything."

            Zero paused, frozen by that single ominous word. Sigma laughed and took another step forward.

            "Zero…If only you could still remember how it all began. When I first met you…but you can't, because you lost all memory of that event. And the only ones who truly knew of what had transpired on that day were me and two scouts. The scouts perished in another mission soon after…and so it's just me now. I am the only person alive who knows. Who knows how you joined the Hunters." Sigma cackled. 

            Zero shook his head.

            "Why should I believe you?! Why should I believe anything you say?! You're a Maverick!"

            "Tut, Zero…" Sigma chastised him, shaking his ponderous head. "Allow me to remind you that I was once the leader of the Maverick Hunters…"

            And then something took over. As if starlight exploded before Zero's eyes, he suddenly saw. Saw what Sigma had seen all those years ago…

            _Where's that red Maverick that wiped out Garma's Unit?_

_            **In…inside.**** He's inside that door…**_

**_You may leave now…I'll take care of this personally!_**

_            **By yourself, Commander?!**_

**_I don't want any more of my people being SACRIFICED._**

            It was a massive door. In its prime, it must have been constructed to withstand a bombshell explosion. But now it gave way easily, destroyed from the inside out. And then Sigma had stepped inside, greeted with musty smells of forgotten time that attacked him. The lights were nonexistent…if power had once flowed through this place, it didn't now. 

            And then Sigma paused where he stood, looking into the darkness and spying a lone figure, hunched over as if in deep thought. But then it turned, grunted in surprise at Sigma's approach…then screamed and charged at him.

            It was Zero who was attacking Sigma. Zero, with his bloody hands, his wild blond hair, and a lean figure that spoke of an inner strength…not nearly so evident as with Sigma, but somehow more hidden. And the glint in his eyes…intelligence that bordered on madness. Madness in red.

            For what seemed like an eternity, they fought. Sigma having the upper hand at first, throwing Zero about like a rag doll…yet each time the Prime Maverick Hunter kicked at the 'crazy red Maverick' and sent him through a wall…or facefirst into the crumbling ceiling…The Maverick came back, grinning fiercer than before, seemingly unfazed.

            And slowly the tide turned. As if the Maverick reveled in destruction, thrived on the pain Sigma gave him, he grew stronger, more determined…until when Sigma ignited his beam saber and the Maverick Zero used an aged section of anti-plasma piping to duel with, Zero triumphed and gashed Sigma's arm off, sending his beam saber collapsing to the ground uselessly.

            There was fear in Sigma's eyes then, as Zero drew nearer and nearer, a feral laugh rumbling low in his throat with that insane gleam in his eye.

            That was where Sigma had gotten the scars over his eyes. Like many other parts of the synthskin on his face, ripped off. It had begun there…Sigma had kept the scars from that battle. Through every Maverick Uprising since then, a pair of red gash marks over his eyes. In remembrance of that battle gone horribly awry.

            And Sigma had won. Somehow, Zero had frozen in his attack, somehow lost in a trance. He clutched at his head, screaming in agonizing pain…and Sigma took the opportunity, struck with all the power left in his remaining fist, and sent Zero collapsing in a heap.

            _Take that red Maverick…back to the repair center. And, and call Doctor Cain…I wish to have that Maverick studied…_

_            **Are you all right, Commander?**_

**_SILENCE!_**

_            And yet Sigma had turned around then, somehow different and changed from the events within those ancient hallways and rooms. _

            _No one is to know that the reploid inside that decrepit building is Maverick. Don't tell ANYONE of this._

            And then Zero blinked, and found himself back in the Final Weapon.

            Sigma hovered above him in the air, gloating.

            "Zero…you were a Maverick." And somehow, despite the shock, Zero didn't care then. Maybe that was why he always felt so driven to fight…but he didn't care.

            _Sigma…Goddamn you, Sigma, what have you done?!_

_            "SO WHAT?!" Zero screamed back. Sigma laughed darkly._

            "Aah, Zero, you are most impressive. I've always watched you. You love to fight. You live for the scent of blood, the screams of fear from your victims. And that is why. It's in your very nature. You cannot deny it, cannot stop it."

            "Shut up!!" Zero growled, running at Sigma with his saber raised.

            Sigma pulled out a strange, twisted scythe from his back and ignited it, plasma biting against plasma before he parried and sent Zero crumpling backwards from the force of the blow.

            "You're pathetic at times." Sigma groused, now looking all the world as if he was the Grim Reaper. "Just utterly pathetic." A weakened Zero struggled to get up, but Sigma floated over and grabbed him by the neck. He held the Hunter aloft and breathed down into his face. "So what are you going to do now, Zero? Tell me…answer your own question…What are you fighting for?" Sigma cackled at that. "Forget the fact that fighting is in your blood. What reason, what purpose do you have for taking up that blood-spattered beam saber of mine and slashing Mavericks into the dust? It is a legend you carry with that blade. It is yours now, but there was a time it was mine. Whoever owns it seems destined for a path of endless destruction."

            "You're insane…"

            "Far from it, I'm afraid." Sigma said, his eyes flashing for one moment. "My thoughts have always been sound. My emotions measured carefully, never overdrawn. Through my genius, I have led Three…no, FOUR Maverick Uprisings." Sigma sneered at Zero, throwing him to the ground like a rag doll. "It's incredible how willing the GDC and the Maverick Hunters are to overreact. You fools just didn't get it…Repliforce was never the threat. I approached them at first, yes…But General would have none of it. I told him that he had enough power to CRUSH you and the rest of the Maverick Hunters…and that if he didn't, that one day you and X and the others would come for him. They would come and tear Repliforce apart."

            Sigma pulled back his hood so Zero could at last stare at his face. Sigma grinned darkly. "Did I lie?"

            "You bastard…" Zero rasped, getting up and pulling his saber to bear. "Goddamn you…"

            "Aside from Split Mushroom, Magma Dragoon, and Cyber Peacock, every Commander you and X destroyed was in possession of their full faculties. It was a simple matter to cause Repliforce to take the blame. A single Dragonian class Roploid sent to attack Sky Lagoon…Repliforce arriving first, and failing to stop it…And then they take the blame. How quick you and the Hunters were to accusation, and not reason. But admit it. You know why you were. You feared them. YOU DESPISED THEM."

            "SHUT UP!!!" Zero screamed, pulling out a Rakuhouha pellet and hurling it at Grim Reaper Sigma. 

            The Maverick King merely faded out of sight, and reappeared after the explosion had ended. And the grin stayed.

            "And now, everything has come together as I have seen it. Repliforce lies in ruins, torn apart by the all too present and violent Maverick Hunters. The Final Weapon is launched…soon to be under my control…And I have won the most important victory of all, Zero." Sigma extended his free hand out and pointed with a toothy grin. "I have crushed you."

            "NEVER!!" Zero screamed, charging on. And Sigma merely faded away again…

            Reappearing beside Iris's still body.

            Zero turned about, his rage bleeding out of him and exhaustion taking its place.

            "Iris…" Zero croaked. Sigma knelt down beside her, reached a hand out and gently stroked her cheek.

            "All she wanted was to live in peace, Zero. She didn't want to fight. She didn't care about Mavericks or Maverick Hunters or the GDC…She just wanted to live in peace. Happy and content with the man she fell in love with." Sigma retracted his hand and pulled his hood back up, turning about and letting his dark red eyes glow from the shadows of his shroud. "And you killed her, Zero. You killed her." Sigma walked towards Zero, his voice turning from its quiet tone to sinister bitterness. "She wasn't an enemy, Zero. And you still killed her. You call me the monster…and you yourself kill without hesitation. You hide behind that veil of justice…that you fight to stop the Mavericks. But you can't hide behind that lie now. Not when we both know what you truly are. You are the true Reaper."

            Before Zero could move, a warp beam struck down and collapsed around him, clothing him in the same dark death shroud that Sigma wore.

            "You and I are not so different, no matter what your dogma cries…" Sigma mused darkly, folding his arms. "We both strive for one goal the same, to change this world so full of lies."

            Zero panicked and ripped the outfit off, shaking his head with wide eyes.

            "So what will you do now, Zero?" Sigma cackled. "Will you go on in this fight? You've already killed Colonel…and you've killed Iris…So who's next, Zero? Will you destroy Hazil one day? Perhaps even Cain? WOULD YOU KILL X??"

            "Never…NEVER…" Zero moaned, clutching at his head. And Sigma merely let his quiet laugh fill the room.

            "You are pathetic." Sigma said finally. "They could never forgive you for what you've done here. You've become more than a Maverick Hunter. And you're far worse than a Maverick."

            Sigma appeared behind Zero in a flash, his hot breath baking down the Crimson Hunter's neck.

            "Murderer…"

            And then Sigma was gone in a flash.

            Zero collapsed there on his knees, pounding the cold steel floor of the room with his hands. Exhaustion, rage, and unbelievable guilt mixed as one.

            His energy below half, his emotions strung out for all the world to see, and the woman he loved lying dead on the ground behind him, Zero pummeled his fists into the ground and screamed, an agonizing scream. His heart was beyond broken.

            It was shattered.

            _Murderer…murderer…murderer…_

            Zero uttered a cry somewhere between a gasp, a yelp, and an uncontrollable pained scream. And then it all faded.

            His nightmare faded. Reality set back in. Of where he was…what had happened.

            "Iris…" Zero whispered, putting a hand to his eyes to hide the fresh tears.

            "Morning, sunshine." Came another voice. Even without having to look up, Zero knew who it was.

            "X, what are you doing here?"

            "I got up." X said plainly. "And to tell you the truth, I'm more than a little pissed."

            "Like that's anything new." Zero said back, lowering his hand and pushing his pained feelings as far back as they would go. But X knew he was hiding them.

            "Snap out of it, Zero." He chirped bitterly. You and I both know you're hurting."

            "Like Hell. I've died before, X. Getting a little battle damage won't…"

            "I'm not talking about THAT." X said, impatiently tapping his boot on the floor and staring Zero in the face. "I'm talking about the fact that Sigma brought Iris back."

            And it was there that Zero's defenses began to slowly crumble.

            "And just what would you know about it?"

            "Zero, I know you better than anyone. I know you better than Sigma, despite what he may try to brainwash you with at times." X said firmly. "You and Iris were most definitely involved. I'd even go so far as to say you loved her. Loved her more than anything."

            "That doesn't matter anymore." Zero said hesitantly. And there X's sour mood went worse.

            "Zero, do you WANT to be an emotionless killing machine?!" Zero recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "Wake UP, big red. You're NOT. You have feelings. And like the rest of us, you have doubts, you have fears, worries…And you have your GRIEF."

            "Just what do you know about me?!" Zero shouted, getting up and staring at X. 

            The Blue Bomber of 21XX merely folded his arms. And uttered one word.

            "Everything."

            The two stared at each other. Until finally, Zero shook his head and dropped his face to the ground.

            "Sigma said the exact same thing once." 

            "And you believed him?"

            "He was telling the truth." Zero mumbled, shaking his head. "For all Sigma is, for all the malice he carries, he never lied about my origins. I was a Maverick when I encountered him. I was the Prime Maverick. I was the original carrier of The Maverick Virus. I was the final creation of Doctor Wily."

            "So what?" X said bitterly. "Nothing can change that now. And getting depressed about it won't do anyone any good. And you aren't who you were then. I saw you when you were under the effects of the Virus. You're a completely different person from how you were then."

            "It doesn't change the fact that I KILLED HER." Zero said, shaking his head with a sob.

            "Sigma made you kill her." X consoled him. "Don't you remember?? The Repliforce Incident was all CAUSED by Sigma. Repliforce was just his ploy, his ruse, his cover. Everyone in Repliforce, EVERYONE, had fallen victim to his plot. And we just fell into it. The GDC, The Hunters…we all fell for it, hook line and sinker."

            "Exactly." Zero choked out. "We fell for it. We killed friends, allies…"

            "And yet you still haven't moved on, have you?" X said grimly. "You still don't get it. Grieve. Grieve once. Then move on. Carry the memory with you, treasure it…but don't let it consume you. If you let it get in your way, then you can never move on. You have to move on. You have to."

            "And who told you that?" Zero muttered.

            "You did." X said, a sad smile coming to his face. Zero said nothing for a while after that, so X continued. "Look, I know you missed Iris. And I know that you grieved after The Fourth Uprising. But you have to move on, Zero. Whether you want to believe it or not, this time it's different. That isn't the same Iris you fell in love with. It's an Iris built by Sigma, to follow Sigma. That's all he cares about now. It isn't about some high lofty moralistic goal of his. It's degraded now. All he cares about is destroying us." X drew nearer to Zero, eyes burning. "And until we stop him, once and for all, he'll keep coming. He'll keep coming and more people will die. And unless we always fight our hardest, he'll win. HE WILL KILL US." 

            There, X shook Zero by the shoulders. And in some way, Zero slowly tilted his head back up, still looking completely devastated.

            "Zero, you can't die on me. YOU CAN'T DIE." 

            "Why not?"

            "BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL I HAVE LEFT!!" X screamed. "Cain is DEAD. Cossack is DEAD. Three of my armor sets, the legacy left to me by my father are GONE. Goddamnit, Zero, YOU ARE ALL I HAVE NOW!!"

            Zero stared blankly at X for a while. The Blue Bomber of 21XX shook his head sadly and stepped back.

            "God…Zero, I can't lose you."

            And then something clicked in Zero. If only for a moment.

            It was time to leave the past behind. X was right. He couldn't change that. Who he had been. But he could change who he was. He could work to alter the present.

            It had always been Sigma. Always…And X was right. He would keep going. Until he was destroyed, wholly and completely, this would never end. And more would suffer.

            _Cherish the memory of lost loved ones…and then move on._

            "You haven't lost me." Zero finally uttered. His voice was calmer then, more collected.

            X looked up, his face red from his own tears. Zero walked next to him and shook his head. "X, you're right. I have to move on. And I will."

            "You're all I have left."

            "You're all I have left too." Zero continued, his voice stronger. "Everything's changing…save one." He clasped a hand on X's shoulder. "I'll never leave you. Never."

            X's face grew calmer, and he lifted a hand up and placed it on top of Zero's.

            "Friends?"

            "Always." Zero promised him. And then they smiled. The both of them. There were still tears in their eyes as they hugged. A hug shared between comrades that bled on the battlefield. Who were the best of friends. Who saw each other through thick and thin. Who were supposed to have been enemies, but most definitely were not.

            "We'll get him, Zero. We'll stop Sigma once and for all. Cain's memory won't be tarnished. And the Hunters will continue."

            "And what about Iris?" Zero asked suddenly, pulling away from X. 

            The Blue Bomber of 21XX stared for a moment, then shrugged his head carefully.

            "Don't fight her, Zero. I won't either. Maybe, there's a way…a way to snap her out of his trance."

            And for Zero, that was enough for now.

            The both of them would try their hardest. X would have to fight without his armors. And Zero would have to fight, dreading the time when Iris would reappear.

            But they still had to. To stop Sigma.

            To end this senseless series of wars.

            To protect the world.

            Even when the world didn't want to protect them.

            "So just how many things do you think you've built by now?" Willow asked nonchalantly, throwing a ball up into the air and catching it when it came back down.

            Bristol looked up from her latest stack of almost unintelligible scribblings, filled with numbers, formulae and various other things.

            "Pardon?"

            "I asked you a question, Bristol." Willow sighed, catching the ball again and shaking her head. "But never mind. So what's this then?"

            "Remember a while back when I was all excited about that new algorithm? You know, the one that would allow us to finally make warp generators capable of transporting humans safely?"

            "I recall something about that, yes." Willow mused, reaching down beside her for something else.

            "Well, our first test of the human warp generator is ten minutes from now."

            "Why wasn't I told about this earlier?" Willow queried, lifting an eyebrow. Bristol blushed for a moment, then shook her head.

            "I'm sorry…my mind's been a thousand other places."

            "Well, all right." Willow replied. "But you're not the only one that's been busy." Quickly, Willow pulled out the object she'd been rifling around for and hefted it at Bristol.

            The MI9 'Tech caught it easily and examined it with hawkish eyes.

            "This looks like a beam saber cylinder…" She tapped it for a moment, then shook  her head. "But wait, it's a little too wide around for a traditional beam saber…"

            "There's a reason for that." Willow grinned, taking it back and wrapping her firm grip around it. Before Bristol could ask just what made the device so special, Willow had released a long chain of metallic links from it. Bristol drew in a sharp breath…a breath which was exhaled when every last link suddenly gained a spherical green plasma sphere around it.

            "God save the queen…is that…"

            "Och, yea." Willow chuckled a bit, a glimmer of excitement in her eye. "A fully functioning beam whip. I built it meself."

            "Incredible, just incredible…" Bristol exclaimed, her smile growing wider and wider. "You've made a durable series of interconnected links…each with its own personalized containment field…"

            "I avoided a lot of problems doing it that way." Willow said cheerfully. "Only problem is the cost. Since the links are made from TitaniTefloAlloy, this thing's cost in raw materials alone is somewhere around a quarter of a million. Dollars." She added as an afterthought.

            "Still…That's just incredible. Do you plan on taking your invention pub…"

            "No. This little beauty is mine, and mine alone." Willow said suddenly. She looked down at the weapon, then shut it off and retracted the links. "Do ye really think that the world needs another weapon for killing? There's enough beam sabers, daggers, staffs and lances to go around as it is."

            "I suppose you're right." Bristol acquiesced gently. She got up from her seat and motioned to the door. "Well, I suppose we'd best get going. This test isn't going to run without me, and you're invited to see it work."

            "All energy meters running at normal." Tarkin said nervously, looking up at the monitors. "No ungrounded connections detected…we're good to go."

            Bristol looked up from her clipboard with slightly worried eyes to the two warp transport capsules. If this worked, it would be an easy task to design personal warp generators, but for the initial test she wanted the sheer size that the capsules offered. It was an easier target to hit.

            "You'd better not scramble my brain, Bristol." Warned Jowers from inside the North facing capsule. His eyes danced with more than a little anxiety as well. "I don't exactly like the concept of turning into a vegetable." Measuring devices were everywhere on his head, keeping a continuous EKG reading of his brain.

            "Don't worry Jowers, you're in the best of hands." Bristol reassured him with a smile. The enhanced human chuckled a bit, even though his face paled.

            "So why don't I feel any more relaxed?"

            "We already have you on a mild sedative for the tension, Jowers." Bristol giggled. "Any more and you might start doing the full monty."

            "And you wouldn't enjoy that?" Jowers joked nervously. Bristol calmly examined him from head to toe, then shook her head.

            "I can't exactly picture you naked, I'm afraid. So let's just get this test over with." She turned to Tarkin. "Activate the scanners!"

            Tarkin pushed a button, then nodded his head. "Scanners active."

            "Whuzzat mean?" Jowers exclaimed nervously. Bristol turned about, her face calm again.

            "A warp generator's scanners allow it to see just what it's sending. It basically makes a schematic…a blueprint of how you look now. So that way, when you come out on the other side, you're reconstructed according to the original blueprint. It prevents messy things like missing arms or being turned inside out."

            "Sounds easy enough." Jowers mumbled. "So why was warp travel off limits for humans until now?"

            "Their minds." Bristol said gently. "No matter how far warp travel advanced, humans couldn't go through because of the side effects upon their psyche. Dr. Albert William Wily was an avid user of warp travel…and even more frightening, CLOAKING devices, which were even harmful to robots before they were banned." She tapped her forehead. "Wily was certifiably insane for most of the 15 years that he and Mega Man were in the public eye. And most historical scholars claim that a large portion of that insanity came about because he used personalized warp generators."

            "What are you saying, that this warps my mind?!" Jowers nearly screamed. Bristol shook her head.

            "That's the trick, though…my recent discoveries have the potential to up the potential of warp scanners. With increased functionality, they should be able to warp humans without warping their minds…keeping them fully intact, adding nothing and taking nothing away."

            "So WHY AM I HERE?!" Jowers screamed. "I don't wanna go insane, I don't wanna…"

            "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO!!" Bristol screamed back. Her voice was forceful enough that Jowers was stunned into silence, even as Bristol sighed and shook her head. "You're not going to go insane. I know what I'm doing here, I trust in my numbers 110%. So just relax, Jowers. You'll be fine. Besides, you have TARKIN looking out for you!" She grinned, slapping her human colleague on the back. Tarkin winced for a moment, then begrudgingly nodded his head.

            And then a few moments later, the scanning process entered the final stage.

            "Transfer in 3…2…1…" Tarkin counted down.

            Jowers vanished from inside the north-facing capsule…

            And then reappeared in the south-facing capsule. Whole and complete, with not a scratch on him.

            Quickly, Tarkin went up and connected another set of wires to Jower's forehead, getting another set of EGK measurements.

            "What are you doing?" Jowers whispered, deathly afraid. Bristol replied without looking up from the EKG monitors."

            "We're going to compare your brain activity. There's going to be some slight differences because of the stress you're feeling, but if we've done our job right, your mind should be what you would call 'normal.'"

            And then came the agonizing 90 seconds when Bristol compared the EKG readouts. Jowers, Tarkin and Willow all waited anxiously…

            Until Bristol twirled about, her face ecstatic.

            "Readouts are a perfect match. Jowers went through with no mental side effects!!"

            "WE DID IT!!" Tarkin whooped happily, jumping up and down and then grabbing Willow, dancing around the room.

            And then all of them got into the excitement of the moment. Aside from Jowers, who weakly sat up against the wall and took a long drink of a whiskey flask from his pocket. 

            Little did Willow and Bristol know that that was one of the last times that they could ever celebrate.

            Wycost let out an involuntary grunt as the hilt of his opponent's beam staff nailed him right in his chin, sending him stumbling back. Quick on the attack, the MI9 operative charged in, staff raised for a slice to sever the Bronx Bomber in half.

            "Oh, no you DON'T!!" Wycost growled, shifting his right arm into a Buster and pointing it at the ground in front of the MI9 agent. And then he fired, not a searing bolt of plasma, but a Narwhal Striker round that blitzed down and exploded, hurling shrapnel and a concussion wave outwards. Wycost lifted his other arm partially to defend against the explosion, but his dropped goggles did most of that already. The MI9 operative wasn't as lucky…while he avoided the main blast as he was hurled back, and thus lived, the shrapnel seared along and sliced a wicked gash on the back of his hand, causing the warrior to grimace enough that he lost control of his beam staff and it fell to the ground with a clattering motion. Before the MI9 agent could get back to his feet, Wycost had incinerated the wicked cutter with a semi-charged Buster shot.

            "I'd like to see you try anything fancy now, buddy brown." Wycost growled, letting his Buster shift back away into a hand. And then he realized just how feral these MI9 twips were…because even without his weapon, the enhanced human charged towards him, screaming cries of hatred. Wycost grunted as they locked in a pure fistfight, trying to shake off the jarring blow to the side of his face.

            _Damnit__, these guys are like pitbulls…_

_            Doan had his own problems to worry about. He'd become a primary target for the two other men, who now circled him like sharks waiting to strike. Warily, Doan held his beam lance closer and let his senses take over. He could trust them, Doan knew. Ever since he'd been constructed, he'd relied on his senses. Even the ones that defied explanation. And because of that, he'd survived. Through his early days as The Ghost Wind, and after that…when he was a Maverick Hunter._

            And then both charged at him. Doan's eyes narrowed, and he quickly leapt up into the air, activating his Saber Flare once more. The MI9 operative in front of him was stunned to see Doan's weapon suddenly bloom in length…and more stunned to see it coming down towards him. Still, he hissed in anger and blocked it with his beam staff.

            The plasma blades connected…but the force of Doan's strike was so intense that it dragged down the side of the weapon until it met the hilt of the staff, finally finding a place to cut at. The metal of the beam staff's handle. 

            The MI9 operative had no time to respond. Upon losing stabilization of his staff's EM field, the errant plasma backvented, taking the entire assembly…and his hand…with it. Doan turned about, rearing his other hand to bear and quickly morphing it into a Buster.

            The MI9 operative charging behind him received a full supershot in the middle of his chest. Doan narrowed his eyes when he saw it flare angrily against a previously invisible EM shield…it would take more power to stop these guys. Luckily, that's what he had. Time, though…

            The first MI9 operative looked at the cauterized stump of what had once been his hand in dismay, just standing there before he started to whimper. He collapsed to his knees and slumped over, beginning to shake and tremble from the shock of it. Doan shook his head in disgust.

            "Weakling." And then the second one came charging back for more.

            Horn too was stumbling to stay alive in the conflict, what with one of the female MI9 agents staring him straight down with burning vengeance.

            "Julius Kinnian Horn." She taunted, standing fifteen feet away from him on an upraised section of roof. "You hold one of the greatest blasphemies of all…Giving yourself a full HUMAN name…"

            "Excuse me if I have a friggin' personality!!" Horn shouted back, firing off a loose blast of energy designed to overload the conscious motor controls of its victim. The female MI9 agent merely sidestepped, holding her beam staff closer still.

            "You reploids don't deserve names. You would kill this planet…kill us…You MONSTERS!!"

            She charged at Horn, decking him to the roof in a single punch. Dazed, Horn could do little as she sliced his Buster…and the lower part of his arm…clean off. He screamed. Screamed long and loud from the injury. Pain flooded his mind, threatened to send him over the edge into inky blackness. And somehow he held on, even as the black beam staff's point descended down and hovered above his forehead, with the burning eyes of his murderer boring down on him.

            "The only thing you deserve is to DIE."

            "YOU FIRST!!" Came a powerful shout. The female operative turned her head about…a fraction of a second too late. A screaming Allegro was right on top of her, holding his beam staff with his only remaining hand, only one blade lit so it acted more as a beam saber. In one smooth motion he brought it horizontally across her neck, feeling the strain as the EM shield around her flared in response to stop the blow. But he didn't stop. He pushed through it, rendered the shield useless…and severed her head off in one clean sweep.

            The head of Horn's murderer toppled down the side of his roof like a hailstone…and the rest of her body collapsed soon after, draining blood like a fountain.

            Allegro blinked a few times at the sight, then paled even more and fell backwards. His beam staff shut off, and he turned to Horn, who now was straining to get up with only one hand left.

            "I…Don't feel so good…" Allegro mumbled weakly, before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed into stasis.

            Horn just about did the same thing. Only he bothered staying conscious. For now.

            And then there was Willow. The one person in the group that MI9 had come for in the first place. Her hands were full with a female MI9 operative that had more than a few bursts of speed to her. Every strike of the beam staff was a fierce one, threatening to end her life in a blink. And yet it never came close enough.

            "MI9 has warped itself." Willow growled, pulling her beam whip back for a strike. With her other arm, she tried to fire off a plasmic explosive, and only then realized that she hadn't reloaded her arm gauntlets with the necessary ammunition since her run-in with Geoffrey and Tim. She cursed for a moment as the MI9 operative drew nearer, then brought her main weapon to bear. The beam whip snapped forward and missed the operative that leapt away, but sliced clean through a nearby palm tree and made the Treeborg organism crash to the ground. "I remember when you first brought us into the world. And now look at what you've become…Just LOOK."

            "You posed a danger to us!" The MI9 agent hissed. "You, and every other reploid on Earth is a danger to humanity! Even now, you prove us right by fighting us!"

            "I'm fighting for my LIFE, you whore!" Willow hissed back. "There's a crucial difference between needless destruction and SAVING YOURSELF. Would you act any differently, in my shoes?!"

            "You're reploid, Willow." The female MI9 operative snapped, charging forward with her staff out in front of her. "Your opinions, your beliefs, your goals mean NOTHING."

            Something changed in Willow's eyes then. A blink beyond fear. Beyond even outrage. That blink brought stony distaste…one that had only scorn and focused bitterness.

            Willow used two short bursts from her variable air dash thrusters and met the operative in midair. Her free hand reached about and clutched at three feet from the opposing end of the chain…a movement which should have caused her hand to be sheared off by the searing plasma orbs that gave the beam whip its bite, yet did not come, as the individual plasma fields closest to where her hand approached shut down. In yet another part of the beam whip's design, it responded to the presence of her body, shutting down to allow her full movement and maneuverability with the weapon without allowing it to cause harm to her.

            With her beam whip now forming a loop in her capable hands, she rotated about in the air, contorting her body so that she flipped over the MI9 operative before the beam staff could strike. And then she dropped the loop, ensnaring both the warrior and her beam staff in a powerful snare.

            Grunting in surprise, the MI9 operative could do little more than plummet to the ground, the only thing keeping her alive a thin EM shield that glowed furiously by the presence of Willow's beam whip lying right next to the protective barrier.

            Willow landed as well, holding her grip tight and then doing a backflip to further shorten the noose. And then and only then did she bother to take a breath.

            Doan's final opponent let out a single gasp of dismay as his chest was run clean through by the fiery end of The Ghost Wind's beam lance. He coughed up blood for a moment, then fell to his knees, still dumbly staring at the hot plasma jammed through his EM shield, through the front of his chest…

            Doan let the blade fade out, and the MI9 operative fell to the ground, eyes dull and cold as the rest of him was. He shook his weary head and turned back to face Wycost's own fight. Grimly, he noted Wycost was holding back…still so intent on staying true to his new life goal that he put his own life at risk by not fighting at 100 percent. Doan clucked his tongue once, lifted his right arm, and fired. 

            Wycost's vision was beginning to go blurry from all the successful punches his opponent had landed…and it could definitely go either way. What bogged him down the most was the realization that this opponent was human. It wasn't reploid…destroying this human would instantly characterize him as Maverick.

            And then all his problems were solved as a plasma supershot came from behind, enveloping the human in a brief flash of fire and a scream of dismay before the warrior was atomized. Wycost stared dumbly at the space in front of him…thinking for a moment that Willow had once more done the unthinkable. But it was Doan who walked towards him, beam lance tucked away and his Buster still trailing ozone.

            "You killed him…" Wycost whispered in shock. He looked up to Doan, eyes hollow. "You killed a human."

            "I killed someone who would cause harm to me, and to others." Doan corrected his friend calmly. "Trust me, it's happened before. And though I don't like the thought of performing an act that's so commonly chalked up to Mavericks…I will do it."

            "I…" Wycost began, shaking his head in dismay. "I don't understand…"

            "What's worse than a Maverick, Wycost?" Doan asked him suddenly, stopping the Bronx Bomber before his sentence could be finished. And there Wycost snapped alert, staring at his old friend for a moment. 

            It was the question that had done it. A question that Isaiah had given him…and a question that continued to haunt him, always bringing itself back into the spotlight by some means or another. Wycost breathed deep, shutting his eyes for a moment.

            "There may come a time when I will have to do the same thing…" He finally uttered. Doan harrumphed.

            There will come a time when you need to do the RIGHT thing. And I hope both for your sake and for Bristol's, you are able to understand what is right. Even if the line is so blurred that you can't see it…and can only FEEL IT." Doan held out a hand for Wycost. "Now come on. As fierce as that battle was, it's over with now. Willow has the last one tied up." Wycost nodded and followed his friend, not failing to notice the whimpering, shivering human figure lying on the ground in a fetal position, arms drawn to his chest.

            "What's wrong with him?"

            "He's missing a hand." Doan replied calmly.

            "Oh."

Willow and her MI9 prisoner were still staring at each other by the time Wycost and Doan got next to her. "Why?" Willow said icily, pulling the reins tighter on the thing threatening to end the life of her opponent. The MI9 agent stumbled forth a bit, then glared back up, bright blue eyes shining.

            "Why what, reploid?"

            "Why are you doing this?" Willow growled. "Why were you so intent on killing all of us in MI9? WHY?!"

            "You were a danger. You knew too much, you all were in too deep…And all reploids are a danger. The Final Weapon taught us that."

            "Final Weapon?" Doan muttered, his voice leaking inflection for a change. He folded his arms and turned to Willow. "The Final Weapon was the end of The Fourth Uprising. What's that got to do with this so-called MI9?"

            "You all must die." The MI9 agent hissed, eyes now burning through them all. Disgust…disgust that did nothing to hide the abject hatred spawned from that voice. It made Wycost's blood cold. He didn't know humans could be this dark…Violent, yes. And racist, most definitely. But what came from the MI9 operative, what had come from them all was more than that.

            "You reploids are a blight on the world, a swarm of locusts that must be REMOVED." The MI9 agent hissed. "And we have Bristol now. Now, everything will come together…" 

            It was then that Willow's eyes flared, that she snapped her beam whip tight.

            The EM shield around the MI9 operative offered little resistance, its power already drained from the continuous proximity of Willow's primary weapon in the first place. With the ease of breathing, Willow sliced the female operative in two, turning about as the severed body collapsed to the ground, staining the sand and grass red.

            Calmly, she shut the power down and let the TitaniTefloAlloy links of the beam whip snake their way back inside the weapon's hilt.

            "God." She finally muttered, shaking her head and putting a hand to it. "Goddamn them all…Goddamn them…"

            "Willow." Wycost said shortly. The red haired reploid turned her gaze over and looked at him.

            "Yes, Wycost?"

            "You know what I'm going to ask." Wycost said softly. Willow's green eyes were sadder then.

            "I'm afraid I do, laddie. But until I make sure that there won't be more coming our way for a while, we don't have the time to play question and answer."

            "Ask Horn about the anti-warp generator." Wycost muttered quietly, picking up on her reasoning. He didn't feel any more inclined to repeating this fight for a while. 

            "Where is he?" Willow asked back. Doan looked about, then calmly pointed above. To the roof, and the figures lying there.

            Ten minutes later, a massive electromagnetic bubble sat around Horn's private island for a two mile radius, preventing warp transport from getting in. The only surviving MI9 operative sat with his ankles shackled together and his surviving hand and wrist tied to the dining room table leg. He wasn't going anywhere, especially seeing as he was knocked out by a hefty dose of general anesthetic.

            Willow, Doan, Allegro, Horn, and Wycost sat in the living room. Allegro barely awake, and Horn no better off as the two let the hovering auto-repair drones work on giving them new hands. They lay listless in a pair of La-Z-Boys, their extraneous functions cut off so the recovery time might be faster. As it was, they could do no more than listen, see, smell, taste, and talk. In other words, the primary senses and the power of speech.

            Willow had gone digging through Horn's refrigerator after changing out of battle regalia into a blouse and ankle level skirt, and had wasted little time in discovering the many varieties of alcohol he kept on hand. Her left hand had a bottle of whiskey, and her right had a mixed tropical drink. The tropical one she nursed, the whiskey she swigged.

            "I suppose every story comes with a beginning, a middle, and an end." Willow murmured dolefully. She looked up, unfazed by the alcohol to her disappointment, which was her intent for having so much. To dull her senses in the first place, and push back the day's pain. "So, where would you like to start then?"

            "Beginning's fine." Wycost offered, sipping a shot of high powered expresso he'd brewed, trying his best not to spill any on his leather bomber jacket. Doan, the only non-injured member on the island that hadn't changed into street clothes, bided his time beside Wycost on the couch, head tilted back and eyes seemingly zoned on the ceiling. Wycost knew better…Doan was paying full attention to the conversation. 

            "Traditionalists…" Willow grumbled, taking another hefty swig of the whiskey. "Well, all right. Name the most horrendous decade of 20XX."

            "2040, without question." Wycost murmured back. "The Wars of 2040 nearly resulted in humanity falling to extinction because of the devastation they'd caused upon the planet."

            "Good." Willow chirped, twirling the paper umbrella in her tropical drink. Wycost noticed for the first time that she'd bothered to use a coaster on the coffee table. While Doan and Wycost sat on the couch, Willow merely sat cross legged on the carpeted floor. "Now, what caused the negative effects of this fantastically stupid conflict to be negated, so that humanity might continue on its merry, bastard way?"

            "The Second Rainbow." Doan offered, still refusing to look down from the ceiling. Willow bothered to offer a slight smirk.

            "Your friend's even less talkative than you are, Wycost."

            "He's like that. But is his answer right?"

            "Aye." Willow said laconically, chugging another mouthful of whiskey. She set the almost empty bottle on the floor beside her leg and nodded. "The Second Rainbow. A group of scientists from every nationality, religion and ethnicity. Brought together for the purpose of survival alone. Differences and vendettas and international tensions were all shoved aside, all for the drastic need of survival. And somehow, they succeeded. The world lived. And then the world moved into a new age."

            "The age of robots…" Wycost murmured, eyes narrowing from behind his glasses. "Wily and Light were in the Second Rainbow, I remember that. And…"

            "And it was their advances in the field of robotics that led to the split of the Second Rainbow back in 2067. The news that they were building a next generation robot, close to human…Protoman…" Willow finished calmly. She leaned forward, staring into Wycost's eyes. "But it didn't end there, no…When the Second Rainbow fell apart, its members had divided into two groups. The traditionalists…and the technologists."

            She leaned back, her point made.

            "And now we come to the true point of this history lesson. Where did MI9 come about?" She reached to the coffee table and pulled up the tropical drink in her slender, pale fingers. "MI9 was spawned from the Second Rainbow. The name of the organization, MI9 is meant to mislead if it ever was leaked. There is no affiliation to Britain or any of its government agencies. For all purposes, MI9 comes from one thing…the traditionalist faction of the dispersed Second Rainbow."

            She downed the mixed drink in one easy gulp and set the glass back onto its coaster, the ruthlessness she displayed in combat hidden behind the pleasant and quiet demeanor she demonstrated now.

            "MI9 got its start in 2069, lads." She continued thoughtfully. "At the time, its beliefs were similar to another anti-technology group of the time, the HSL. Human Supremacy League. Their belief was technology was what had caused humanity to nearly destroy the world. That to keep it around was a danger." She snorted. "Fools."

            "But 2070 was when the First Robot Rebellion occurred." Wycost motioned. "And the HSL…it was disbanded after that."

            "Exactly." Willow answered back. There was a sense of irony on her lips then. "I remember reading some archived files back in my early days at MI9…for a time, the secretive and newly formed MI9 had thought of coming forth and exposing themselves to the HSL, of joining forces with them. But then Doctor Light and Doctor Wily held that press conference and introduced the world to the Robot Masters…and Rock and Roll."

            "Is that what stopped them?" Wycost asked.

            "MI9 wasn't stopped. It was frightened. And so it decided, wisely on their part, to stand back and see what would come about. Thus, when the First Robot Rebellion occurred and the HSL was disbanded, MI9 was left unknown to the world and continued on its merry way."

            "But if MI9 was formed out of traditionalists…why didn't they take action against the robots?"

            "Because that was a sticky point." Willow uttered darkly. "It was hard to decide policy. Robots weren't the true enemy in the Robot Rebellions…it was the people that used them. Wily. It was Wily that was the hands moving the strings. And to make matters even more confusing for them, it was a ROBOT…Mega Man…that stopped his madness time and time again." She shook her head and laughed. "Leave it to our ancestor…A robot fighting robots to keep humanity safe. That's why MI9 didn't act. Instead, they opted merely to sit and wait. To grow stronger. In due time, they enlisted new members secretly, discreetly. And they placed certain members of their organization in high ranking governmental positions around the world." She lifted a finger and nodded. "That still exists to this day. Remember Emilius Cristoph?"

            "Served on the GDC Cornus Council during the Second Uprising, brought the initial charges against all reploids in 2124, tried to cause the limiting of forces in the Maverick Hunters earlier this year…" Wycost rattled off.

            "One and the same." Willow finished. "He was MI9."

            "Well, terrific." Doan muttered. "Are you saying the GDC is corrupt?"

            "Not as much as you would believe. Cristoph was the only power player MI9 had." She sighed and reached for the nearly empty whiskey bottle. "So then the years pass. Robot Rebellions continue on, and Mega Man is always there to stop them. MI9 is content to sit and wait, growing stronger every day." She swigged the final bit, then tossed the bottle behind her, ignoring the dull thump as the glass bottle hit carpet. "And then comes the time when Mega Man, when Wily, when Light and all the other influential people in the glorious age of robots fade from memory. The world continued on, believing them to be gone, believing it all to be over." Willow laughed a bit at that. "You wouldn't believe the conflict in MI9 then. With no Wily, no Light, no Robot Rebellions…no great technological movement left to worry about, they pondered breaking apart. They wondered if MI9 was even needed then." Her face grew serious. "But then, 2117 came about. November and December of 2117. And then MI9 suddenly realized that it wasn't quite time yet to hang up the ropes."

            "When Doctor Cain announced to the world that he'd discovered Mega Man X…and that he'd built Cancer, the very first reploid." Doan offered blithely.

            "You fellows know your history." Willow chirped to them. Wycost shrugged.

            "It's interesting enough to keep track of."

            "So then, MI9 had a reason to go on. Because now, there was an even greater threat. A new breed of robots…robots designed to go beyond the Three Laws, to act, to feel, to BE human. Reploids."

            She waved her hand through the air.

            "MI9 first started making reploids in 2125, after the World Trial failed. After Doctor Doppler revealed that what caused Maverickism was The Maverick Virus."

            "They considered it safe to use reploids then?" Wycost asked.

            "Saf-ER." Willow corrected Wycost. "Bristol and I were born then. And there were few of us to start with."

            "So what did you do?"

            "Research and development." Willow said with a quiet twinkle in her eye. "It was our sworn duty to sit in empty rooms and think of new and brilliant ideas. And to be completely honest, it was BRISTOL that was the true brains. In our stead at MI9, she constructed many wondrous things for them. Bio-implants were her first breakthrough…using them, humans could gain physical and mental abilities that allowed them to compete with reploids."

            "Like those MI9 operatives outside?" Doan snorted. "You telling me they had these 'bio-implants'??" 

            "They did." Willow said, her face darkening. "They also had warp transport generators…like this one." She held a squarish device out from her skirt pocket. "This one was taken off our friend sleeping in the next room. It's a traditional warp generator. Scanning functions, hop ability, links up to GPS satellites…But this has one very important upgrade that Bristol invented." Willow's face went stern then. "An algorithm added to the pattern buffers that made warp transport safe for human travel…without the negative, mind warping side effects."

            "No WONDER." Wycost muttered darkly. "But if you were there…how did you end up here? And how did Bristol get to New Denver earlier this year, where Bastion found her?"

            "Aah, that's where this gets dark and interesting, lads." Willow said, wistfully looking at her empty drink glass. She sighed in defeat and ran a hand through her wild red hair. "Now then, my latest opponent mentioned in passing Repliforce's Final Weapon, remember?"

            "Hai." Doan muttered, looking for any excuse to keep the conversation fresh, even if it meant switching to Japanese instead of English.

            "The official position of Repliforce was that it was NOT Maverick. That they were not infected with the Maverick Virus. That they were acting of their own accord, for their own reasons."

            "As if the GDC believed that…" Wycost murmured.

            "You Maverick Hunters weren't exactly patron saints in that conflict, either." Willow noted drily. Wycost snorted in disgust. 

            "Don't try placing blame on me and Doan. I was still working MSWAT in New York then, and Doan…"

            "I was busy." Doan muttered. Willow shut her eyes and exhaled a long breath.

            "Whatever. In any case, when the Final Weapon, Repliforce's spaceborne pride and joy turned its main weapon down at Earth, that was the trigger. After that point, whatever mistrust and animosity that our human lads held towards us was multiplied." Willow leaned back onto the floor and stared at the ceiling, finally beginning to feel the mild effects of her bottle of whiskey and the mixed drink. "In reflection, I've looked back and done some thinking. And I realized what caused it. Repliforce wasn't Maverick. That much they'd made clear…and yet, even without the Virus flowing through them, they still were a THREAT. The Final Weapon was still pointed at Earth…they still planned on causing damage. And they weren't MAVERICK." 

            Her green eyes shone bitterly. "So that was it then. After 2129, It just became inevitable. And somehow, somewhere, someone high up must have decided that the risks were too great to keep us around. If Repliforce could do such a grievous action…Well, imagine what us MI9 reploids would be capable of."

            "So what happened?"

            "Extinction, that's what." Willow spat out. "They moved slowly at first. Some members of our teams just stopped coming to work anymore. We thought nothing of it for a while…but then it was too much. Suspicions ran high. And then, early in 2131, I saw Fannir being torn apart…and they jammed their beam staffs through his skull…" Willow shook her head, trying to get rid of the powerful memory. "Then I knew. Then I knew just how serious they were on seeing us all dead."

            "So you escaped?" Wycost egged.

            "I escaped with Bristol." Willow corrected, sitting back up. She looked at Wycost. "That's why I know so much about her. I was with her since we were born into this world." Her gaze shifted away from Wycost, staring off vacantly somewhere into the distance. "We escaped MI9. Maybe others made it, maybe they didn't…but we did, at least. Despite everything else falling apart around us, Bristol and I made it. After that, it was just a matter of running." She got up and walked over to a nearby chair and finally sat down like the rest of the intrepid group sitting in the room. "No matter where we went, it seemed as though MI9 always had a team after us. Bristol and I were always awake, always moving…it was draining on the spirit and body both, to know that there was so much hatred burning in their spirits to see us that dead. Of course, with 50 two man teams doing all the tracking, that was a simple enough objective. Running became the task of the day."

            "We ran and we ran and we ran…We fought off The Trembling time and time again, and we always escaped, yet were always found…And then we reached New Denver. That's where you discovered Bristol…that's where this tragic tale of the past blends in with the present."

            "Just what happened?" Wycost asked, lifting his glasses up so that Willow could finally see the concern on his face. 

            For once, Willow didn't try to hide her exhaustion, the pain in her eyes, the wear on her soul.

            "What happened?" She mumbled quietly. "What happened?" She tilted her head back and seemed to chuckle to herself bitterly. "Simple. The world happened."

            Willow was the first one to wake up. She usually was, most of the time. Bristol had a purer heart, a heart that could be broken or torn apart. Willow's could only be hardened.

            The alleyway they sat in was relatively empty. Aside from a few other reploids and humans who qualified as official slum dwellers, cardboard boxes and newspaper their warmth against the chill of the Spring night.

            Quickly, Willow checked her weapons. Plasmic explosive launchers were all fully loaded…two more rounds hanging on her belt in reserve. Her beam whip was fully charged as well, lying by the plasmic rounds. 

            Her internal chronometer informed her that they'd been running from MI9 for around two weeks now. She didn't bother checking the exact date…just a round figure was all she needed. Any more than that, and she might get depressed.

            She got to her feet, ignored the weariness and warnings her body screamed at her. She didn't have the time for this. Neither did Bristol.

            "Wake up, lass." Willow murmured, shaking her comrade's shoulders.

            Bristol made a gentle moan of disapproval, but her eyes eventually fluttered back open.

            "What?" She whispered sadly. Willow's face was as ashen as the one that mirrored it.

            "Time to get going." 

            Slowly, Bristol got to her feet and blinked a few times, not even bothering to try and smooth out her blond hair. She knew it was a mess…and there was little she could do for it now.

            "Any sign of the Enhanceds?" Bristol asked perfunctorily. Willow shook her head.

            "Not yet."

            "That's a good thing." Bristol said, reaching down to her wrist and the device clinging to it. She examined its tiny LCD display for a moment. "My Anti-Trembler needs another three hours before it's back at full strength. They've been hitting us hard lately."

            "My own's a little low on stopping power as well." Willow muttered. "Now if I remember correctly, we're some fifteen miles away from New Denver."

            "You think if we get there, we stand a chance of blending in?"

            "For a few days, at least." Willow murmured. She looked up to the dismal gray skies above, her green eyes saddened by the sight. "MI9 is looking for us. And they'll have a tougher time of it in New Denver. The place is expansive, packed together…and no matter how much of a risk we represent, they're not about to go let field agents be exposed to the general public."

            The both of them were bedraggled. The weeks had been hard. And they kept moving. Knowing if they stayed in one spot too long, that they would be discovered. And most likely destroyed.

            Thirty minutes later, they were in the bus terminal. Buying tickets for a trip to New Denver. Normally, warp transport would have done it. But by now, their actions in this medium sized 'burg had been noticed. MI9 would have a warp trace hovering over them…warping would have let MI9 know exactly where they were headed.

            While Bristol was at the ticket counter, her hair now somewhat more presentable as she haggled down the price for a twin rider discount, Willow stood guard. With a long flowing blue cape behind her attached to shoulder lapels drawn completely around her body, and a similar blue hood hiding her face, she looked no more noticeable than any other refugee. And refugees were a common sight anymore, with the Maverick's actions causing countless cities to be razed, and hundreds left to wander the Earth, with virtually no one to care for them.

            Her green eyes flitted around the waiting lounge, not looking for a kind of outfit or a hairstyle, or even a skin tone. Those identifiers would do her little good. What would tip Willow off was the glint in their eyes.

            That glint, a sharpness of acuity and intuitiveness, came from the bio-implants in their eyeballs. And of course, the malice that they all seemed to have now.

            "Come on, don't show up, don't show up, don't…" Willow murmured. But she drew in a quick breath and silently cursed…

            Because two figures walked inside the bus terminal, dressed in civilian clothes, but no less ruthless or deadly. And Willow knew the one walking in front. Jowers.

            Moving as discreetly as she could, Willow turned about and headed to the counter, where Bristol was already turning.

            Willow caught her by the arm and forced her to start walking in another direction.

            "Christ, I wish we'd gotten you a hat…"

            "They're here?" Bristol said sharply, but quietly enough that nobody around them could eavesdrop.

            "Aye." Willow murmured. She looked up to the ceiling, and the reflective angled mirrors hanging from the ceiling. She could still see Jowers and his new cohort staring around, searching for them. "They're here, all right. So let's get moving."

            They moved outside the building through another exit and moved to the buses. Willow's eyes flared from underneath her hood, and she forced Bristol onto their bus in one fluid motion.

            Bristol stumbled on the step and almost let out a cry, but the seriousness of their sutation stopped her. Even then, when they sat down, Bristol glared at Willow.

            "Just what was that fo…"

            Willow silenced Bristol with a palm in front of her face, then motioned for the ex-R&D genius to drop her head.

            Outside, Geoffrey and Tim were walking about with their hands jammed into the pockets of their blue jeans. They stared up into the windows of the parked buses, the tinted shading made useless by their enhanced vision. They stood and stared at the bus Willow and Bristol were on for a few hard moments…then finally walked on to another one, their interest seemingly sated.

            Willow visibly relaxed in her seat.

            "God, they're everywhere."

            "What can we do?" Bristol whispered frantically. Willow's eyes dimmed. 

            "Nothing. There's nothing we can do." She leaned back in the cushioned bus seat and shook her head. "They're prowling now. If we get out of this bus, they find us. If we warp out, they trace us. The only winning move now…is not to play."

            "Isn't that a quote from an old movie?" 

            "Early 1980's. Matthew Broderick. Wargames." Willow affirmed. She shut her eyes. "Right now, all we can do is lean back and see how this plays out. We've come this far without being spotted, so the odds are that they're doing little more than checking all possible routes of escape."

            "Think they'll leave?"

            "They might. Or they might not." Willow answered vacantly. "It all depends on how special they feel like being. And even then…just how much do you think they could get away with on a bus? A bus full of humans and fellow reploids, no less?"

            Bristol looked about. Scattered in various sections were the scattered masses. Crying babies and young, frazzled mothers. Elderly couples and the occasional rugged looking individual. Public represented at its best.

            And Willow was right, of course. They could do nothing now.

            And then the wait was over. The bus began to move…

            Then stopped, and descended back to the ground for a moment. Another passenger climbed on.

            Willow's eyes darkened from the back of the bus, dark enough already by the lack of sun as night crept to its full power. MI9 had indeed decided to cover all angles. For the figure that climbed on the bus was one Randy Jowers…one of the first enhanced humans ever made by Bristol's brilliance.

            He looked respectable enough, and even apologized to the driver for making him stop. Then he took a seat up front and sat down, staring vacantly ahead as the bus lifted off the ground and let its thrusters take over, shooting it across the highways towards New Denver, Colorado.

            An uneasy silence filled the bus then. Only Willow and Bristol had taken up position in the rear of the bus. All others lay in the front or the middle. It was almost a dead giveaway, if Jowers were to bother looking. 

            But of course, Jowers had a way to do this, a way that wouldn't raise suspicion. Three minutes into the trip, he got up and headed towards the back of the bus, seemingly on a trip to the lavatory kept in the rear.

            Willow had to kick herself upon realizing what he was doing. As he passed every row on his way, he had his eyes take brief, fleeting glances down at the passengers. Too fast for a human to notice…but all too apparent to Willow and even Bristol as they watched him draw nearer and nearer.

            And then he got to them. He had only to look down once before his face darkened, and the disheartened duo realized that they'd been discovered. But he kept moving, to the back of the bus and into the restroom. And there was where he shut the door and locked it.

            "Well, I guess the jig's up, lass." Willow grumbled quietly. "Jowers is onto us."

            "So now what do we do?"

            "By now, he's alerting the other members of MI9 to our location. Rest assured that when we get off, they'll have a force ready to deal with us. I'm afraid that walking twat's left us only one option."

            "Which is?"

            "NOW we warp." Willow affirmed. She looked outside the window. "I just hope we're far enough out that their scanners won't pick us up. Otherwise, our little vacation will be shorter than we'd like."

            Bristol nodded sadly and moved away from her comrade. In unison, the two powered up their warp generators, set their destination to New Denver, and began the sequence. 

            There was the hiss of a warp transport, and then they were gone. Some of the people farther up in the bus turned about, surprised by the noise. Of course, when they saw nobody there, they shrugged it off…a trick of the mind, no doubt.

            But inside the bus's tiny lavatory, Jowers grinned maliciously from ear to ear as he stared down at his datapadd, blinking as he watched the warp signals of Willow and Bristol shoot off.

            "We've got you now, reploids…"

            "Sigma!!" 

            The Maverick King blinked his eyes a few times, wondering who would be foolish enough to wake him up when he was supposed to be sleeping. Then he shut them again and turned back to warm, wonderful thoughts of Iris. Sweet, dear, naïve, Iris…

            "SIGMA!" Came the voice, louder this time. The room's lights came on. And Sigma knew who was doing the talking.

            Kazok.

            Slowly, Sigma lumbered to his feet from his stasis capsule, bringing himself to his full height before opening his eyes. Kazok stood below him, easily dwarfed by Sigma's enormous size. And yet that didn't matter to the Maverick General, Sigma noticed. There was a fury in his eyes that burned all too brightly. 

            "What can I do for you now, Kazok?" Sigma muttered. "Or were you just coming in here to inflame my anger again?"

            "No, I have got a definite beef this time around." Kazok muttered. "I'm getting sick and tired of all this piecemeal crap."

            "Oh, are you referring to my dealings with Zero?" Sigma answered back calmly.

            "You let him live." Kazok muttered angrily. "Me and the rest of my squad almost got KILLED out there against the hordes of Maverick Hunters, and you and Iris sat pretty inside that decrepit old building, waiting for one…JUST ONE…" Kazok shook his head of short black hair back and forth disgustedly. "Dolph almost died yesterday, damn it!"

            "I saw the report." Sigma retorted. "He let Zero get in close enough to slice his hands off. I would have thought the fool would have identified the shortcomings of his plasmic gauntlets by now…"

            "You MONSTER!" Kazok snapped, bringing his gravicrystals to life and lifting himself up to stare at Sigma with even eyes. "Don't you even CARE if your people die or not?"

            "This battle has gone on for more than a decade, Kazok." Sigma said evenly. "Individual soldiers no longer concern me. They are doomed to pass on, to be lost like all others before them. There might even come a day when **I will vanish for all time. Those are the facts." Sigma crossed his arms and looked down at Kazok. "You are one such soldier, Kazok. Our fight with the Maverick Hunters is destined to happen, time and time again until one side or the other lies completely annihilated. And until that day, the battle continues."**

            "You sick bastard, you're insane if you think I'm going to just hang around until you force us to die…" Kazok began, but suddenly felt himself being choked.

            Felt his body turn against him, drop him to the ground as convulsions ran through him.

            Sigma laughed darkly then, shaking his head.

            "You fool. You just don't get it, do you…you have lost all say in your fate. For all purposes, your life is mine."

            "How…" Kazok grunted, hardly believing that such powerful resistance had snapped within him.

            "As long as I am near, you cannot break free. You cannot." Sigma said fiercely, pulling Kazok back up to his feet. "I know the seeds of rebellion have been planted in your brain. I cannot help that…it will happen. But the Maverick Virus beats in you, Kazok. It beats in you, and as long as I am alive, your life is mine." Sigma threw Kazok to the ground and shook his head bitterly. "And now you know, Kazok. Now you know why you are Maverick."

            Something clicked in the back of Kazok's mind then…thoughts and memories and feelings not held since he'd awoken to stare back at Sigma.

            "I was…" Kazok began, barely believing the horrific truth.

            "You were." Sigma confirmed, a dark chuckle beginning. "You were free. You were just a normal reploid. In the employ of URFAWP."

            "And then…"

            "And then, I claimed you." Sigma announced powerfully. "You became a part of my Maverick regime, a sleeping soldier just biding his time until I deemed fit for you to awaken."

            Tears sprang to Kazok's eyes. Angry, disbelieving tears. He slammed his fist into the ground, shaking his head.

            "Then all of us…we were all URFAWP…You took us all, you ruined our lives…"

            "I would hardly call what you had before a 'life', Kazok." Sigma growled. "But yes. Now you fully understand why this continues."

            "This isn't about some great moralistic goal with you anymore…" Kazok shuddered, shutting his eyes tightly. "This is just all a big fight between you and X and Zero…Just a stupid vendetta you can't get rid of!!"

            Sigma sneered at that.

            "My dear Kazok…vendettas are all I have left."

            Sigma stood up and left, chuckling darkly. And still Kazok had no power to resist him. No power whatsoever.

            He was Maverick. And Sigma was right. Nothing could change that now. It didn't matter he'd been pure once, it didn't matter he'd been enslaved against his will and he now fought for a doomed regime…

            Nothing mattered. Nothing.

            They had been tracked. That fact became all too clear the moment that Willow and Bristol appeared in New Denver…only to find two fully dangerous Enhanceds already staring them down. Their Berserker Beacons had been active and blaring, and only the two reploid's quick activation of the Anti-Tremblers prevented the MI9 operatives from making Willow and Bristol into scrap.

            But something had interrupted them then…As Willow and Bristol ran, and the two MI9 agents Geoffrey and Tim had chased after them, screaming and whooping all sorts of noise, something stopped the rapid pursuit in the blink of an eye. That was a bombshell explosion.

            Incredulous, all four turned about, letting their eyes wander for any sign of where the blast had come from. And then they found it. Troops on the ground, hordes of hovertanks…None of it good. And all of it screamed one word…

            "MAVERICKS?!" Geoffrey snorted in horror. Tim too, looked unmistakably ashen. Willow and Bristol weren't exactly ecstatic about it, either.

            "God, not Mavericks…anyone but them…" Bristol whimpered, growing weak in her knees. Willow bit her lip and pulled Bristol by her arm. 

            "Come on!!" The two took off running, startling the MI9 agents back from their stupor.

            "Oh no you don't!!" Tim growled, beginning to chase after them. Geoffrey jumped like a gazelle and pinned his partner to the ground, just as a shell whizzed overhead and exploded where Tim would have been…

            "Now is a good time for us to RUN." Geoffrey growled to Tim, pulling his partner back up. "We can't handle an entire onslaught of Mavericks, you know that!"

            "What, and just let them get away?!" Tim snapped angrily. Geoffrey shook his head.

            "You don't get it, do you…If we stay, we're dead. But right now, they're dead or worse." Geoffrey's face was grim. "They're walking right into Maverick territory, partner. And no matter how good they are, they're gonna end up slagged." Geoffrey tucked his beam staff away and smirked. "Ironic. Our problem is going to be solved by a much larger one."

            "And the larger one?" Tim growled. "What about the world full of reploids?"

            "You haven't been reading your memos." Geoffrey chided. "Don't worry, there's stuff in the works." 

            Another explosion and the engine roar of the approaching tanks broke their conversation again. Tim couldn't help but offer one last retort to the fleeing ex-MI9 Techs.

            "Good luck, you two…I'll see you both in HELL!!"

            The MI9 Enhanceds blasted out of there in a pair of warp beams. Now it wasn't their fight anymore. 

            The tank shells were exploding more and more, and the ground forces had caught sight of Willow and Bristol. The target was New Denver, but they were in the way. They were targets.

            They weren't far from the city limits when things really began to heat up…By the time they made it within the relative safety of the concrete jungle, shrapnel had already gashed through Willow's arm.

            They blasted a window open three blocks inside the city limits and flung themselves through it. Thankfully, nobody was home in the apartment.

            "Let me see that wound." Bristol said quietly. Willow stared back at her comrade with glassy eyes, then shook her head.

            "I think…we have bigger worries than a scratch on me arm." Willow said in gasping breaths. Nonetheless, Bristol turned her arm over and stared at it.

            "God…they did a number on you." Bristol gasped. "It's sealed off, at least…" Bristol reached into her chest compartment and pulled out a medical scanner, running it over the wound. "Shrapnel…one of the stupidest weapons of war ever invented." She shook her head angrily. "Just one thing after another…"

            "Bristol, SHUT IT." Willow barked angrily. Her glassy eyes glimmered in tears. "You don't get it…You naïve fool, you don't get it…"

            "You call ME naïve?" Bristol snipped back. "I was the most brilliant R&D scientist!"

            "And now they're all either dead or scattered, the same as us." Willow snapped. "You were the one that created the Berserker Beacon. It was YOU that gave them the bio-implants. It was YOU that made it possible for humans to use warp transport!! Bristol, FACE THE FACTS, LASS. It was YOU that made it possible for MI9 to kill us. You are the one who carries the blame for our woes. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR US TO BE DESTROYED."

            And there the silence hung between them, as the explosions drew nearer, the hoots and calls louder by the second. Bristol's eyes brimmed with angry, hurtful tears. A retort hung in the back of her throat, just waiting to come out. Willow braced herself for it. Ever since they'd been on the run, it had been like this. If they weren't worried about avoiding MI9, Bristol had been forced to deal with the truth it was her fault. That she was, by her inventions and genius, the one who made it possible for MI9 to carry out its extermination of the reploids in its employ.

            Her head bowed to the ground, blond hair hanging over her face as she shook her head back and forth. And then the ground began to grow wet.

            "You're right…" Bristol croaked angrily. "You were always right…" She dropped the medical scanner, still shaking her head. "You tried to warn me. You tried to tell me that the Berserker Beacon posed as much of a danger as it did a benefit…And I didn't listen, God forgive me, but I didn't listen…"

            "Nothing we can do about it now." Willow consoled her, quieting her angry tone. Which wasn't hard to do, considering how tired she felt. "For all the brilliance you have, you never got around to time travel." She reached her good arm down and lifted Bristol's chin. Bristol's face was crestfallen as it had ever been, and red and teary to boot. "Come on, Bristol. This isn't the time to mourn. MI9 has left us for dead or worse in the stead of these Mavericks…And unless we get moving, then we're as dead as they think we are."

            Bristol sat there dumbly for a few more moments, and Willow snapped. "Damnit, lass, don't go catatonic on me! I made a promise that as long as I breathed, you wouldn't fall into harm's way, and I mean to stand fast by that oath!"

            "I'm all right…I'm all right now." Bristol uttered, coming back to her senses. She looked into Willow's eyes and nodded. "Somehow, some way, if we ever survive this, I'm going to head back there one day. And then I'm going to stop them. God help me, if I get the chance, all my work shall be torn asunder from them, I'll stop them in their tracks!"

            "IF being the key word, Bristol." Willow reminded her gently. "We're far from out of the woods yet."

            To emphasize their point, a louder explosion rattled the building, and a figure blasted the door open. Bristol and Willow cringed against the blast, then stared through the clearing dust. A figure stepped through the door, sucking in a lungful of air before exhaling it in satisfaction.

            "Nothing like the smell of ozone in the morning!" He chuckled, staring down at them. Both Bristol and Willow noticed the all too large plasma cannon in his arms, which didn't rely on an integrated Buster system, but its own power supply. "Aah, some of our first victims. Time for the world to feel the pain of Mavericks once again!"

            "Unless you wish to die, I suggest you turn around and pretend you never saw us." Willow clipped, moving herself in front of Bristol and pointing with her good arm. The Maverick, a spry thing of medium build looked at Willow and chuckled for a bit.

            "Geez, I'm supposed to be frightened?" He wiggled the business end of his weapon. "I'm the one with the gun here, sweetie. There isn't exactly a whole helluva lot you can do."

            "No?" Quipped Willow, humor seeping into her voice. It vanished a moment later as she drew in her pointing index finger and straightened her fist.

            Before the Maverick could so much as utter a shout of surprise, Willow had fired off a round of her plasmic explosives, nailing him directly in the chest and carrying him out into the street before it exploded and claimed him in a maelstrom of plasma.

            Willow lowered her arm. "Well, I did warn him." She picked up Bristol and clucked her tongue. "Lass, if that was the welcoming wagon, we have our work cut out for us."

            "What about your arm?" Bristol asked quickly. Willow shook her head sadly.

            "Nothing to be done about that now…I'm just going to have to deal with it."

            Off in the distance, they could hear the hovertanks draw nearer.

            "We're always running, aren't we?" Bristol murmured bitterly. Willow pulled out her beam whip, but didn't turn it on.

            "Do ye have a better idea?"

            Of course, Bristol didn't.

            Kalinka didn't expect any visitors as she stood on the outer wall of her father's ancient Citadel. She had expected nothing but quiet, the low moaning of the wind as it blew past at its own slow, disparaging rate. Even now, in late June, she still found it more comfortable to put on a coat. Especially seeing as the sun was now dipped below the horizon, filling the sky with a cool pink that warned of the chill night to come.

            It was remarkably similar to the one she had worn as a child. The red fabric, the fur lining, the boots…In fact, if one looked at a picture of Kalinka when she was ten, and one in the present, the only striking distances they might find, aside from the obvious signs of aging, would be her thinner blond hair, her sadder eyes, and the mask she seemed to wear.

            It was Pharaoh Man who always seemed to have an intuitive ability to track her down. And he'd used it again to find her.

            "The horizon is quite good this time of night." Pharaoh Man announced gently, stepping beside the only human remaining in the Citadel and staring out over the horizon.

            This was one sight that never changed. No matter what year it was, the wilderness of Siberia remained untouched. It had looked the same thirty years ago as it did now.

            It had been 2091 then…And it was Sergei Cossack that had stood where Kalinka now did. Pharaoh Man had there as well.

            _"Master Cossack, what troubles you?" Pharaoh Man had asked. Slowly, firmly, the roboticist, with his thinning brown hair and streaks of gray, had turned about. Looking through the thick lenses of his glasses, he had acknowledged his creation's presence._

_            "You know me that well now, don't you?" Sergei Cossack said grimly, turning back to the sunset. "You know that I stand here because my heart searches for answers my mind has not found."_

_            "Something along those lines, yes." Pharaoh Man spoke back. "And somehow, I come to the conclusion that your answers belong to questions that nobody can answer. Because they are no longer among the living."_

_            Cossack said nothing then, so Pharaoh Man continued. "It's about Mega Man and his family, isn't it?"_

_            There, Cossack offered a nod._

_            "It is." He turned to __Pharaoh__Man.__ "You were there when Light brought Mega Man's body to us, and we put it into the inner chambers of the Fourth Ring."_

_            "The Mausoleum, I remember." Pharaoh Man nodded. "And after that, before October of 2087, when Light's information capsule arrived."_

_            "Yes." Cossack said sadly. "And that is why my mind sits in unease." He stepped back, pulling his hands from the loose folds of his laboratory smock. "Mega Man and the others gave their lives so Wily's Demon could be stopped. They died…because that madman didn't know when to quit. He made a monster, and they all sacrificed their lives to stop him."_

_            "If it were fiction, that would be known as a noble sacrifice." Pharaoh Man observed. Sergei Cossack clenched his fists up._

_            "But this is real…I can never believe they all had to die because of some sort of prophecy, some twist of fate. It wasn't their time yet, they didn't deserve to be annihilated the way they were!!" _

_            Doctor Cossack yelled the last part of his reply, his fists becoming white knuckled as he squeezed them tightly. _

_            Slowly, though, the rage left him. And grief took its place._

_            "It shouldn't have happened like that. It shouldn't have. And some day from now, the one they died to save, Mega Man X will come. Looking for answers, for some sort of bearing on his life." _

_            Cossack turned about, his eyes red. "So what would I tell him, Pharaoh Man? He would come seeking comfort, and all I could offer him is my own pain. What good would I be to him? X will know nothing of his past, nothing of how he came to be and what happened to his family. Do I tell him the truth, Pharaoh Man? Do I tell him that they were all murdered?! Killed by Wily's final creation??"_

_            Cossack shook his head sadly. "What kind of a legacy is that…What good am I to X? I can't accept what has happened. They were my friends, they were the ones I dedicated my life to helping…and in the end, I couldn't help them. I could do nothing to stop them from dying."_

_            "There was nothing you COULD do." Pharaoh Man emphasized sternly. "I too, have thought at times that the guilt was there for a reason, that it stood there because there was something I could have done to help them. But I came to one conclusion, Doctor. And that was that the guilt was irrational. There was nothing I could have done…nothing YOU could have done to stop Wily's Demon. Nothing you could do to stop the chain of events from happening."_

_            Cossack remained quiet there, and Pharaoh Man continued._

_            "Mega Man is gone. They're all gone. But their legacy remains. It's been six years now, Doctor Cossack. Eventually, you will have to stop this human emotional state known as grieving. It is not healthy, and you could never honor their memory by continuing it. Move on, Doctor Cossack. Remember what they did. Never forget them. But move on."_

_            Sergei Cossack blinked a few times, then stared at the horizon. Pharaoh Man looked as well. _

_            The pink sun had descended, letting a dull purple and blue claim everything. The wind blew by, brushing Cossack's laboratory smock gently around his khaki covered legs._

_            "Pharaoh Man, even though you are a robot…there are times where you seem to go beyond that simple definition." _

_            "Trust me, Doctor, it is not intentional."_

_            "No, it isn't." Cossack agreed, a small twinkle in his eye. "It's instinctive."_

_            "Pharaoh Man?"_

            The silver and goldenrod colored robot blinked a few times before coming back to his senses. "Pardon?"

            "You blinked out for a moment there." Kalinka said, a small smile on her face. "Were you thinking?"

            "Remembering." Pharaoh Man said calmly. He turned to Kalinka. "About your father…and what happened in 2085."

            Kalinka's smile vanished in an instant. "What of it?"

            "Your father never moved past his grief of that event until 2091. And it wasn't until just now…I realized how very similar the two of you are."

            "Just how so?"

            "Thirty years ago, he too could not move past the reality that Mega Man and the others were gone. That they weren't coming back."

            "So?"

            "Admit it. You, too, have not moved past that either." Pharaoh Man said flatly. "Because there was one person in that group that you cared for, more than any other."

            "Oh?" Kalinka asked, humoring Phare. Her voice was different now, not seeping into bitter anger as it had before. Phare knew it was because he had lived, because she cared for him now.

            "You had feelings for Protoman." Pharaoh Man said gently. Kalinka backed away in shock.

            "But…but you were still fighting for your life when I said tha…"

            "You've shown signs of it before." Pharaoh Man explained. "It wasn't just recent. And you can be honest now. You can admit it."

            Kalinka drew her fur coat tighter around herself, cringing as the wind picked up. Her sad eyes darkened, and she finally exhaled.

            "Yes…I admit it." She turned around and smiled a small, sad smile. "I…loved Protoman."

            "Because he'd saved your life?" Pharaoh Man prodded.

            "It was more than just saving my life." Kalinka said weakly. "I was kidnapped by robots belonging to Doctor Wily. They put me into a tiny prison cell on the outer wall of his Castle and left me to rot. The room was unheated, they fed me little to no food…I was just a bargaining chip for them. An expendable piece of organic flesh they didn't care about." Her eyes grew red as her tears began to form. "I can't even remember how long I was there. One day was the same as any other day, the drudgery stayed the same. The cold got to me, I became sick…And I would have died there. I would have died there in that empty cell if I hadn't been rescued." There, Kalinka smiled. "It was Blues that rescued me. When he walked into the room, I thought I saw an angel. And in some odd way, that was exactly what Blues was. My guardian angel, my knight in shining armor."

            She leaned over the parapet of the Fortress wall and let the wind brush her tears away.

            "Wily's Castle was miles from this Citadel then." She pointed to the east to emphasize her point. "If Blues were to warp, he could have arrived here in minutes. But he couldn't warp. Not with me in tow. No, I was human, and warp technology has always been dangerous to human life. So we had to walk. There were times I couldn't walk, when he had to carry me. And there were times he had to stop, because I was falling asleep, and he had to watch over me." Kalinka shook her head. "I don't think he ever slept himself during that time."

            "He kept you alive." Pharaoh Man summed up.

            "More than that, Pharaoh Man." Kalinka said with a tender smile. "When I grew cold, he would give me his scarf, hold me close and turn up his body temperature…When I couldn't sleep, he would sing me to sleep…I would cry out for father, for my mother, and they were not there. But he was there. No matter what kind of shape he was in, he would hold me close, brush my hair back, soothe my nightmares, whistle until I fell to sleep in his rocking arms." She held a hand against her chest, turned to the darkening horizon again. "He was there for me, Pharaoh Man. When nobody else was, he was there for me. And I grew used to it. I cared for him."

            "You loved him." Pharaoh Man finished gently.

            "I loved him, yes." Kalinka said, her voice growing sadder. "There were nights I dreamed of him, of me being with him, of us being together until we died…" She shook her head. "Even as I grew older, it stayed with me. Nobody knew Blues like I did. To the rest of them, he was the aloof spirit. The wandering whistler. The wayfaring stranger who kept to himself." She stepped back and shut her eyes. "But he was never like that around me. He was open around me. When he spoke to me, he spoke deeply." She turned to Pharaoh Man. "Do you remember those first days after father rebuilt you, Phare? How he became obsessed with helping Doctor Light and Mega Man against Wily and his forces?"

            "It's hard for me…but yes." Pharaoh Man admitted.

            "Back then, my father almost pushed me away." Kalinka said quietly. "But Protoman never did. No matter what went on, he was always there. He would always talk to me. Always make me feel that I was important, that I belonged."

            "And that's why you can't forgive Zero." Pharaoh Man realized. "Because back in 2085, when he was The Demon, possessed by The Maverick Virus, he killed Protoman."

            "That is why." Kalinka said bitterly. She turned about to look at Pharaoh Man. "I loved Protoman, and Zero killed him."

            "But did he love you?" Pharaoh Man asked, folding his arms. 

            Kalinka looked as if he'd slapped her.

            "What do you mean?!"

            "Did Blues reciprocate those feelings of love to you?" Pharaoh Man asked sadly. "Was he even capable of it?" 

            Kalinka knew, of course, there had been just one answer to that.

            "No." She mumbled, bowing her head. "I told him that I loved him once…and he told me I couldn't. That it was impossible, that it wasn't healthy…"

            "Was he right?" Pharaoh Man asked. Kalinka lifted her teary face up.

            "I still don't know."

            There she began to tremble, then stepped forth and drew Pharaoh Man into a tight hug.

            Pharaoh Man stood there uncomfortably for a few moments, but then pulled her closer and hugged her back.

            She let out a choked sob and put her head to Pharaoh Man's shoulder.

            "Kalinka, eventually you'll have to let go. You'll have to move on, forgive them…" Pharaoh Man uttered sadly, stroking her hair. "The past is just that. The past. We cannot change it, and we cannot grow despondent over it. We learn from it. We grow stronger. And we keep going."

            "Don't leave me, Pharaoh Man…" Kalinka said, her voice making his new heart break. "You're all I have left. Don't leave me…"

            "It's all right now, Mistre…Sister." Pharaoh Man began, then stopped himself and finished anew. Somehow, it felt right now. Sergei Cossack's biological and technological progeny…at last finding peace in the sunset of their time. "I won't leave you. I'll never leave you." And when he said that last part, he meant it. His voice carried the soothing message with all its power.

            And so they stood there, holding tightly to one another, Pharaoh Man gently stroking Kalinka's graying hair as Protoman had done so many times in her youth. The wind blew about them, and yet they didn't care.

            Nothing mattered but the peace of two hearts.

            "I'm here, Kalinka…"

            "Phare…"

            "I'll never leave you."

            Eventually, the majority of the Mavericks had slipped into their hovertanks, resorting to taking potshots at everything and everyone in sight of their guns. And Willow and Bristol were still caught in the thick of it.

            It was harder now. They had been worn out when they'd gotten here, and their fatigue was only getting worse. They ran from building to building, trying to outrun the Mavericks. But they never could. The Mavericks were always there, always firing, always laughing and letting the explosions carry their malicious intent to everyone within earshot.

            Willow's gashed arm wasn't getting any better, and to make matters worse, she'd run out of her plasmic explosives. Even the two spares she'd had had been used. The positive side was that the Mavericks were down two hovertanks, and two full crew complements. The downside of this joy was that Willow and Bristol now lacked their strongest weapon between them. All they had left now was Willow's beam whip and Bristol's beam saber, a hot red in color.

            They made their way into an abandoned factory by jumping through the windows. As added incentive, a massive explosion rippled from where they'd jumped, pushing them farther into the aged and decrepit maw of the facility. Bristol took one look around, noticing the designs on the walls, the conveyor belts, the various limbs and arms she had seen in some form or another on so many of her comrades, then reared her head back and laughed. Laughed because the strain was so intense, she was going insane.

            "Oh, GREAT. We're going to die in a reploid assembly plant!" Bristol guffawed. Willow narrowed her eyes, then slapped Bristol across the face, ending the unnecessary laughing.

            "I realize the irony too, lass, but don't go flipping out on me. We're not done here yet!"

            Little did the two know that outside, things were heating up by no fault of their own. The Maverick's actions hadn't gone unnoticed by the world, and thus the peacekeepers had been called in.

            In countless beams of light, twenty four reploids appeared where none had stood before. Each carried a cold steely glint in their eye, and every one of them looked all too capable of creating destruction.

            In front of the pack stood two reploids, seemingly more important than the others. A red armored reploid with a long braid of yellow hair, and a red and orange armored reploid with a messy, ruffled pile of brown atop his exposed helmet. The one with the brown hair stepped away from his counterpart and drew his arms out, fists clenched tight. In one smooth motion, a pack attached to his back expanded outwards, blossoming a pair of ruthless looking Flight Wings.

            "Well, well…We got us some SMART Mavericks for a change." Zero growled, lighting his beam saber. Bastion shook his head and hovered up into the air a bit on his Powerstorm Wing's Thrusters.

            "Smart or dumb makes no difference to me. Twenty minutes from now, they'll be dust." The Commanders of the #00 and 21st Maverick Hunters Unit bellowed a loud whooping warcry, and the troops gushed forth, Busters and beam sabers raised high.

            Thus, back in the abandoned reploid assembly factory, only one hovertank blasted a hole in the wall open and forced its way inside, knocking forgotten pieces of reploid this way and that. And even that was enough to cause Willow and Bristol to tense up. 

            "God, they just keep coming…"

            "Stand fast, Bristol." Willow snapped, cracking her whip on the concrete floor. "If these fugghan idiots want a fight, then that's exactly what they'll get."

            "You're the fighter, remember?!" Bristol exclaimed. Willow smirked.

            "Even so, you do a pretty fine job of taking care of yourself."

            The hovertank slowly turned its main gun about until the barrel was centered on the two of them. Just before it fired, they dashed in opposite directions. The round's explosion missed both of them easily.

            Whoever was inside the tank froze for a moment, not knowing which way to turn the cannon, which one to hit first. And that split second was enough.

            With a powerful cry, Willow dash jumped forward, swinging her beam whip down in one smooth motion and severing the gun's barrel in half. 

            The smooth metal cylinder crashed to the ground with a resounding ring, still moaning as it rolled along by gravity and momentum into the wall.

            Willow was standing atop the hovertank's hatch when Bristol landed beside her, jamming her red beam saber into the hatch and tearing it apart with a few swift strokes.

            If Willow had had more plasmic discharges in her gauntlets, one would have been thrown down into the interior to blow the whole lot of the Mavericks apart. But that wasn't the case. So Willow had to drop her head down, expose herself to all the dangers within to see if there was more enemies to be faced.

            She pulled her head back out, utterly stunned. Bristol frowned.

            "What's wrong?"

            "There's nobody inside this thing…"

            "Remote controlled…" Bristol hissed in realization. A voice from the massive hole in the factory wall outside chuckled then, curdling their purple reploid blood.

            "And remote detonated."

            Willow and Bristol reacted admirably, jumping away as fast as they could with dash boots thrusting at maximum. But they couldn't escape the explosion. They couldn't outrun the shrapnel that resulted.

            The cloud cleared almost as quickly as it had come, leaving the two ex-MI9 'Techs barely standing. Fresh wounds scattered Willow's already shredded body, but Bristol looked moderately untouched. A few scrapes here and there, but for the most part she had been spared the incredible pain of metal shards ripping through her lithe body.

            But neither one of them was doing all that well now. Neither one was in any shape to fight a true threat. And through their glassy eyes, the two of them saw that that was exactly what was heading towards them.

            A figure of medium height and build stepped through the previous hole in the wall, a remote control held loosely in one hand. His armor was nothing but black, a polished obsidian that seemed to draw in all light. His hair was a brilliant white, somehow, and his eyes sparkled blue.

            "You show remarkable skill…especially considering you're not in the Hunters." He announced easily. "You managed to disarm that hovertank and were about to take out the pilots." The Maverick threw the remote in the air and blew it to shreds with one easy burst from his Buster. "Too bad for you the person you were supposed to kill was thinking two steps ahead."

            "Damn you…" Willow grunted, pulling her beam whip closer to bear. Her arm felt as heavy as lead…which wasn't hard, considering how much shrapnel remained embedded in it.

            The Maverick sneered.

            "You're just pathetic. Maybe you would have been a threat five minutes ago…but not now, not after I blew up that tank and you along with it. I'm surprised you managed to escape that much damage!" The Maverick sighed. "But I'm afraid you two are better to me alive. And do you know why?"

            "You're a sick freak who gets off on torturing women?" Bristol murmured bitterly. Despite her wounds, she managed to keep her body crouched in a low ready stance, saber at the ready. The Maverick blinked a few times, then reared his head back and laughed.

            When he stopped, his face went dead serious in a heartbeat.

            "Not hardly." He lifted a finger and pointed to Willow. Or more specifically, to her beam whip. "I'm talking about stuff like that. A beam WHIP…just incredible. Somehow, I don't know how you two did it, but you either stole that thing, or you built it on your own." The Maverick chuckled, eyes glistening like a child on Christmas morning. "And I know this sounds a little greedy…but I want it. I want that technology!"

            "You can't have it." Willow barked angrily, pulling the elongated chain of plasma surrounded links back. "The world already has enough ways of destroying itself!"

            "I see…not going to come quietly, are we?" The Maverick said darkly. His arm morphed up into a Buster. "So what will it be then? Would you destroy that amazing beam whip to spite me?"

            Willow stared down at the object in her hand, her gaze forlorn. The Maverick cackled again, almost insanely.

            "I knew it, I KNEW IT. You cannot! That beam whip is a thing of beauty, of deadly elegance! You cannot destroy it!"

            Willow looked back up, eyes angry once more.

            "I cannot destroy it…but I kin most certainly destroy YE!"

            The Maverick swung his other arm about in the air a few times, then let the whine of his Buster charge fill the musty air.

            "You are of course, welcome to try, madam." 

            Willow and Bristol tried desperately to draw near the Maverick, but always he managed to sneak his way free and keep a distance, making their weapons obsolete and his own far too dangerous for comfort. Over time, the walls became scarred with burns. Assembly line conveyors were sliced to ribbons, and the air was thick with the acrid odor of ozone.

            "Not good enough, ladies!" He taunted again, loosing a green semi-charged blast at Bristol as he leapt away from the snaking length of Willow's beam whip.

            Bristol grunted as she used the whole length of her saber to cleave his shot apart, ducking down to avoid the errant spread of energy that resulted.

            Bristol looked over to Willow, who barely was managing to keep onto consciousness. One eye was already shut, and the other threatened to blur out of focus. And yet she kept going, despite the fact she was teetering so very close to death.

            And the Maverick was still there…

            "I WILL have that technology, you bitch!" The Maverick shouted suddenly.

            And there Bristol just snapped. 

            _This can't go on…God, he'll kill us…I WON'T LET HIM KILL US…_

_            She dashed forward, holding her saber high._

            The Maverick didn't take long to notice her, grinning devilishly as he brought his Buster down and beaded it on her. He fired a supershot, chuckling lowly. "And now you die."

            But Bristol didn't die. Against all odds, she pushed her 2x Variable Air Dash thrusters to their limits, jumping up and over the blistering ball of plasma that should have, by all rights, ended her life. 

            And she didn't stop. She kept coming, a scream forming in the back of her throat. The Maverick panicked, began firing countless shots.

            Bristol deflected some, dodged others, and even took a few hits. But she never stopped. And like a deer in the headlights, the stunned Maverick could do little as she bore down on him…

            He let out a sudden gasp as a raw sensation of pain tore through him. Still stunned, he looked down. And it was then he noticed the blistering red beam saber jammed clean through his lower abdomen, just beneath the Microfusion tank. 

            With glassy eyes that matched Bristol's own, he turned up and looked into her face in confusion and pain. But he never said a word. Not once.

            The both of them collapsed at the same time, Bristol's beam saber shutting off as she lost her grip on it and it rolled to the floor. The dead Maverick as well fell into a heap, his body rolling for a moment before finding peace.

            Bristol felt a strong hand lift her back up to her feet unsteadily.

            "You got him." Willow said weakly. Her voice was so quiet, it had almost become a whisper. 

            Dully, Bristol turned her head about and looked at her only friend left in the world.

            "There are still others." Bristol motioned to the hole in the side of the factory. "Let's…get outside." And they did, leaning on one another for support.

            Only the Maverick and Bristol's abandoned beam saber in the factory now held any evidence of their presence.

            "We never did catch his name." Willow murmured, in her low, disagreeable tone that bordered between rage and quiet acceptance. "He was just one Maverick in a whole sea of trouble."

            "The strange part is, I remember that mission." Wycost grunted. "Or, at least I remember the fact I was left behind from it." 

            Doan finally let his head drop from the ceiling and looked at Bristol.

            "You know, I appreciate a good story and all, but could you try to speed things up?"

            "I know speed is of the essence, Doan." Willow shot back, her eyes burning shrewdly. "MI9's forces will find a way through Horn's EM shield within an hour. Trust me, they have enough of Bristol's original ideas and theories that they can crack anything involving a warp signal."

            "Are you saying that not only do they know where this place is…But they'll be coming back?!" Horn exclaimed. The repair process on his arm had almost finished, a lot of vigor had been restored to his spirit. Willow nodded.

            "I'm sorry, Horn. But as of this moment, your island is a deathtrap. To stay here means certain death at the hands of those Enhanced humans."

            "Well, that's terrific." Horn grumbled.

            "I can see the problems in the real estate description right now." Allegro chuckled weakly. "Enhanced human infestation."

            "This is no joking matter." Willow barked. "The only course of action left to any of you, if you value your lives, is to flee now. Because they'll be coming back. And they'll be mighty angry."

            "So finish up this story already." Wycost demanded. "You and Bristol were in New Denver…which is where Bastion, Zero, and the 'joint unit' that they created for that mission found you. But why did Bristol remember nothing of her past? And why do you remember it all?"

            "Questions easily answered." Willow explained, relaxing her posture again and letting her face fall into seriousness. "Tell me lads, you all know what a neural eraser does, right?"

            Every reploid in the room nodded their heads. Willow's face didn't change.

            "Well then, I don't need to go and explain the basics. Now, Bristol came up with a spinoff of the more basic neural eraser…a portable, coin sized beauty she called a 'memory wiper'. But unlike a more traditional mind altering device, the memory wiper affects only the thing it is named after."

            She leaned back against the carpet and sighed again.

            "We knew there were other Mavericks. And now we knew that the technology we knew about…the things we had created…posed an unbelievable danger in the world. MI9 thought we were dead, or recruited to the Mavericks. They'd fled and left us to rot. But that still left the chums you Maverick Hunters spend your lives fighting against. If they found us, if they got to us, they would find a way to crack us. They would find a way to pull all our knowledge out. All our inventions, our fantastic dreams of the R&D days would be in Maverick hands. And that was a risk that we weren't willing to take. It wasn't a risk Bristol was willing to take."

            Willow sat up, running a hand through her fiery red hair, then stared at Wycost.

            "And so she decided only one thing could be done…Even if it meant…losing everything."

            "There's no other way around this??" Willow asked hollowly. What Bristol had just proposed…It was unbelievable. And it shook her to her core.

            Bristol, with her back to a building shook her head. Which was becoming harder and harder to do from the exhaustion and her wounds building up against her.

            "There's just two of us…and we're in no shape to fight. If we warp out, MI9 will know we've escaped alive. We can't leave…and we can't stay. Not as we are." Bristol laughed softly, almost passing out from the action. "You heard that Maverick, Willow. Your beam whip…my knowledge of warp technology and enhancements…If they got to us, they'd figure that out. They would force us to reveal that knowledge." Bristol trembled a bit. "The thought of the Berserker Beacon in the hands of those…monsters…" 

            "But we'll lose everything. We'll forget everything…" Willow mumbled weakly, slumping to the ground beside her friend.

            Bristol looked into her eyes, acknowledging Willow's fears.

            _I know…all our memories, we'll forget everything…We'll forget our technology, we'll forget our skills, we'll forget MI9 and each other and who we are…we'll lose our names, too, in all likelihood._

_            "I know the consequences." Bristol croaked, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. "I know how severe they are. But we don't have a choice. Either we forget EVERYTHING…or the world stands to lose everything." _

            Willow said nothing in response to that. There was no resistance as Bristol reached into her chest compartment and pulled out a single coin shaped object…the same size, and comparatively the same weight. 

            "Willow…" Bristol said, hesitating to activate the red center switch embedded in the memory wiper.

            Willow looked up, her eyes as teary as her friend's.

            "Don't go getting all blubbery on me now, Bristol. And don't go getting all altruistic. You and I both know the situation we're in, there's no sense in trying to dissuage your guilt by claiming it's for a greater cause."

            "Even if it is?" Bristol parried sadly. 

            Willow and Bristol took a long and hard look at one another. As if trying in some way to embed an image of each other in their memories, in some vain attempt to stop the memory wiper from removing that section of their memories. 

            "Do ye think we'll ever recall each other?" Willow asked. Bristol shook her head.

            "I don't know." She lowered her face to the ground, then lifted it back up. "But no matter what happens…after we lose each other…I'll still be with you."

            "I made a promise I'd keep you alive, didn't I?" Willow asked, sniffing back another tear. "I'm just sorry that promise ended up like this."

            The two reached out their good hands, and held them together palms flat for what seemed like ages.

            The explosions far off in the distance provided a bittersweet ambience for them. In this moment, everything would change.

            And then, reluctantly, sadly, they pulled away from each other, and Bristol stood and held the device at arm's length. And even then she found herself staring into Willow's eyes.

            _I'm sorry…_

            Willow replied with a weak smile and a shake of her head. _Altruism…God, I'm going to die because of altruism. Die in the emotional sense…because she knew the memory wiper would take away everything that made her her._

            Bristol depressed the switch of the memory wiper.

            It exploded in a blinding flash, the lights so synchronized it made an actual message. A message comparable to flashlight morse…that traveled through their optic nerves, into their minds.

            And then everything went insane.

            Bristol collapsed backwards, writhing and croaking as the command ravaged through her mind, tearing apart the connections of her memory. It took only seconds for the process to complete…but the damage was enough. Her memory files were now altered, severed from the waking world. They were lost to her.

            And she faded out into stasis, looking for all the world like some sort of fallen angel.

            Willow's reaction wasn't as subdued. She too felt the command ravage through her mind, but she fought it. She crawled and screamed, her fingers clawing at the barren ground, her mind aching. 

            _Warning.__ Auto-stasis imminent._

_            But she fought it still. If only because some part of her still didn't want this to happen. Some part of Willow still wanted to live. Still wanted to exist._

            Willow made it three city blocks inside of New Denver before she finally gave out, lost to the powerful droning flash of the memory wiper. But one thought remained.

            _I AM __WILLOW__. I AM __WILLOW__!!!_

_            Thus, the Maverick Hunters, after taking out the final remnants of the Maverick's hovertank assault on New Denver, never found Willow. That was left to the good people of the tortured city, who mistook her for a Hunter and took her to a nearby repair center to be healed._

            It was Bristol who was discovered in the aftermath of that furious assault. It was Bristol who was tended to by an enamored Bastion. 

            It was Bristol who left New Denver, her own warp signature confined within that of a PTU, with MI9 oblivious to the fact that their prey was still alive.

            And it should have ended there…but it could not.

            "My God." Horn finally said, breaking the pregnant pause. He opened his mouth again, then shut it and shook his head. There was nothing more he could add. It just didn't seem right.

            "Somehow, because I fought it, because I didn't WANT to lose everything, even if it WAS for the world's benefit, my memories returned to me. And once they had, it became clear enough that the same thing might have happened to Bristol if she'd made it." Willow said, leaning one thin arm onto the coffee table and staring at Wycost and Doan. "It was simple enough to do some research about the Maverick attack on New Denver. That's where I read the Maverick Hunters had stopped the Maverick assault…And yet no mention was made of any rescued reploid, or even coming across one so torn apart…" She flipped her wild red hair back. "So I visited your system…got in and did some 'deep' research. And sure enough, there it was. The Hunters HAD rescued a reploid from that incident…and the only thing that she remembered was that her name was Bristol."

            "You hacked into our system?" Doan half asked, half accused. Willow snorted.

            "Trust me. No system is completely secure. Especially if it's connected to the net."

            "You couldn't do anything inside of there. Ever since the Shadow Hunters incident of 2122, it's impossible to modify files from an external source."

            "True, but that didn't stop me from viewing them." Willow announced, pulling herself up to her feet. She stared at the clock on the nearby wall and shook her head. "And now our time has come to a close."

            "So what are we supposed to do now, eh?" Allegro chirped. "Just pack up and leave everything?"

            "The rational option would be to slag everything in sight." Willow glared. "This place is Horn's after all…and I can tell that the lad's one Hell of an engineer. No sense in giving MI9 more stuff than they already have."

            "Do you know how difficult it is to abandon your home?" Horn asked tersely. Willow chuckled a bit.

            "Horn, you're a reploid. Reploids don't have homes. We're wanderers. We were doomed since birth to wander, belonging nowhere."

            "Your opinion, not mine." Allegro retorted. "Maybe you've just never had a home."

            "And just what would having a home do?" Willow barked back.

            Wycost leaned forward.

            "It might make you lose your wall of hostility." And for once, Willow didn't have a comeback. She just sat there, blinking in confusion. Wycost nodded. "I saw a part of you I haven't seen since when we met up in New Denver. The part of you that actually smiled."

            "I've got nothing to smile about." Willow said, shaking her head and ending Wycost's tirade abruptly. "The facts are this: We need to get off this island before reinforcements arrive. Bristol is in MI9's hands, in the **HQ, no less, and I'm here. Which means I've got the fantastically suicidal mission now to go in there and SAVE HER."**

            "Just wait a second." Wycost said, getting up and dropping his sunglasses over his eyes. "Are you just planning on rushing in there all by yourself?"

            "It's always been my plan before." Willow muttered. "And it's gotten me this far."

            "Not this time, you're not." Wycost ordered. He folded his arms. "I know now you're not an enemy. I know now that you're not a true Maverick. And I know that you and I, although it may sound strange, are working for the same goal. To WATCH OVER BRISTOL." 

            "So you want to come along then?" Willow murmured lowly. "Are you sure that this time you'll be able to follow through? In that last battle, you never ONCE took a shot to stop one of them. To kill one of them. If you're planning on helping me rescue Bristol from MI9 HQ, it's going to be much worse. MUCH WORSE. Can you follow through?"

            Wycost took a breath, shut his eyes. And somehow, he knew he could.

            _What's worse than a Maverick, Wycost?_

_            Isaiah had said it. Doan had said it. And now the truth was standing in front of him._

            MI9's Enhanced humans.

            "I can do it. But it won't do us any good to go rushing in there. We need to regroup somewhere else. Somewhere safe."

            "And just where would that be?" Willow asked, lifting an eyebrow.

            Wycost's response was classic.

            "Maverick Hunter Headquarters."

            There was silence for several moments, then Doan spoke up.

            "Wycost, you've got to be kidding. I know that you haven't been all there recently, but COME ON…"

            "It's perfect." Wycost said firmly. "Even if MI9 manages to run a trace on our warp signatures like Willow mentioned they'd done with her and Bristol many a time before, they're not going to send in agents to the MHHQ. Even for them, that's freaking suicide."

            "If we're going to go, let's do it." Horn announced. He pulled out his remote control and punched in a series of numbers he'd never done before.

            Another angry blare rang through the house, and Horn nodded his head.

            "That's the houses' auto-destruct. This place'll blow in two and a half minutes."

            "You rigged this place to self-DESTRUCT?!" Allegro exclaimed incredulously. Horn grinned sheepishly and shrugged again.

            "Old habits…" 

            "Whatever…it suits our need well." Willow said shortly. "Just what are the coordinates for the MHHQ?" Doan stood up and looked at Wycost.

            "The two of us know 'em well enough. Horn, Allegro, you come with me. Wycost, you take Willow."

            "Stop pulling a Scooby-Doo over my eyes." Wycost growled. Doan's expression lightened, one corner of his mouth almost curling upwards. That was as close as he got to a smile after the MI9 agents had attacked.

            "I'd never think of it." Doan and Horn and Allegro left in a flash of light, leaving just Willow and Wycost.

            "Well, come on then." Wycost grunted. "We have to get out of here too." As if to emphasize his point, the house beeped another warning message.

            Willow blinked a few times, then shook her head.

            "One way of dying or another…Either way, time for our short lives to fade like a rose." She looked down at the squarish object in her hand. "This warp generator will have the files we need to get the drop on MI9's HQ without them knowing we're coming."

            "Which, for Bristol's sake, had best be very soon." Wycost admitted weakly.

            Willow calmly tucked the MI9 agent's warp generator back into her skirt pocket, then stepped next to Wycost and wrapped her arms around him.

            "Now get us out of here." She demanded. Wycost blinked a few times, then finally nodded his head.

            "As you command, milady." 

            Willow's eyes narrowed. "And don't get any ideas." 

            Wycost had to crack a smile.

            "Heaven forbid."

            The heavens above were all too welcome to them, as they phased out and into thoughtless matter and energy bound for the only safe haven left to them.

            And below, the island mansion of Julius Kinnian Horn exploded…claiming every screw, wire, and schematic in a tiny microfusion generated fireball that left nothing to chance.

            When the MI9 reinforcements arrived, all they found was a few scorched Treeborg palm fronds, and a gaping glassine hole in the center…

            And a few bodies of their fallen comrades who had remained outside of the blast perimeter.

            "Just what have you been building this time, Bristol?" Tarkin chuckled, walking into her office. 

            Bristol was already staring at him with an eager smile, then picked up a strange cylinder off of her desk and lobbed it at him.

            The human R&D scientist caught it easily, then examined its odds and ends.

            "Hmm. Well, it looks like an ancient Pringles can, for one…but what does it do?"

            "I call it a Berserker Beacon." Bristol explained, that wide grin of accomplishment and pride still evident. 

            "Well…that's an interesting name." Tarkin murmured. He set it back down on her desk and stepped back. "Feel inclined to telling me what this thing can do?" 

            Bristol laughed softly.

            "Well, for one, my dear Tarkin, this is the most revolutionary device I've ever put together. Even the THEORIES on it are years ahead of its time…"

            "My, aren't we the humble one." Tarkin chuckled. Bristol waved her arm in the air.

            "Sorry. In effect, the Berserker Beacon does one thing, and it does it very well. You simply aim it at a reploid, and the device scans. Once it's done that, it latches onto a specific frequency, then fires away."

            "With what?"

            "Part one of its name. BERSERKER." Bristol said simply. "It sends out a message to the reploid. It creates fear, nightmares, illusions…It makes the reploid snap into uncontrollable fear. That minimizes their combat effectiveness, their sense of logic…" Bristol's eyes were shining with pride. "Why, imagine this being used against the Mavericks…they wouldn't stand a chance, and the stupid Maverick Uprisings would finally be over with!"

            "Indeed…" Tarkin mused. He picked the Berserker Beacon up again and weighed it between his hands. "But something this powerful…" He looked at Bristol, confusion in his eyes. "It would seem to me that this thing is a double-edged sword. What if it was used against everyday reploids?"

            And that gave Bristol pause. She'd never bothered to consider that.

            Tarkin sighed and set it back down in front of her, then tucked his hands into his pockets.

            "Does anyone else know about this?"

            "The Berserker Beacon was in my weekly status report…I sent it fifteen minutes ago…" Bristol managed to utter.

            Tarkin's eyes clouded over somewhat then.

            "Bristol, you still don't get it…we only build the things. But it's the heads of this place that decide what they're used for. I just hope for once, wiser heads will stay afloat. Otherwise…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. His hands went into his pockets, and he turned about and walked out.

            "I am become death…" He began sadly. But Bristol finished it, in a barely audible whisper.

            "The destroyer of worlds…"

            The light finally cleared away…leaving Bristol with a headache, and an even worse nightmare.

            Because it was all true. She'd forgotten it, but it had all come crashing down.

            "So now you remember." Tarkin said easily, almost gleefully. "Do you remember it all, Bristol?"

            "Every nightmarish detail, every shadow and fear…" Bristol choked out, not bothering to stop the tears that came. 

            "We thought you were dead…and then you and Willow have to go and prove us wrong." Tarkin chuckled. "There are times you reploids still amaze me…you're so very resourceful."

            "And what about you, Tarkin?" Bristol croaked. "You were different than most of the others at MI9. You actually gave a damn about what happened to us. Have you changed that much?"

            "I got emotionally attached to you." Tarkin admitted. "Of course, they told me that was to be expected…working in such close quarters with you all, my mind was bound to be poisoned." 

            "Is that the garbage they fed you, Tarkin? What kind of a brainwashing program did they use on you?!"

            "Brainwashing??" Tarkin mused. "Just what are…oh, never mind." He shook his head and laughed a bit. "And now that I've restored your troubled past, my dear, we come to the matter of your doctor bill."

            "You've already taken everything away from me…" Bristol choked out bitterly. "My life, my sanity, my dreams and my hopes…Just what could you possibly hope to get from me next?"

            "The Universal Berserker Frequency." Tarkin said simply.

            Bristol's eyes snapped open as if electricity had been run through her.

            She began to tremble.

            "No…" Tarkin's face morphed into a sick grin.

            "That's right, old friend. Remember when I warned you about the negative uses of your tremendously spectacular Berserker Beacon? Now is the time when your nightmares increase tenfold. We knew eventually that somehow, you and Willow found a way to overcome the effects of The Trembling…so somehow, there had to be a way to block the Berserker frequencies. Any possible Berserker frequency. So if there was a Univeral Anti-Trembler…Reason stood that there was a Universal Berserker Frequency."

            Tarkin walked out from behind his console and over next to Bristol gently stroking her flaxen hair. She cringed automatically.

            "You see, subtly we've had our field agents carrying out a…more important task. The slow and steady eradication of reploids. Your Berserker Beacons have helped us tremendously with that." He pulled his hand back. "But, the rate of progress has been somewhat unacceptable. Thus, we were ordered to take our plans into…an accelerated stage."

            He whistled a bit and crept behind Bristol, so she could not see him, only hear him.

            "And that's why we needed the Universal Berserker Frequency…so we could do just that. Unfortunately, your blueprints and design notes say nothing about the UBF. And none of us were ever able to come across it…" Tarkin sighed melodramatically. "All hope of MI9's grand dreams seemed lost. The Cleansing was destined to fail. But then a ray of hope happened." Tarkin chuckled. "We found you."

            The lights dimmed out…the gentle drone of the fluorescent bulbs faded away, leaving a deathly silence. Bristol was conscious of Tarkin's slow breathing, and her own heart's pounding.

            "And now, Bristol…Now, you will tell us just exactly what the UBF is, whether you want to or not. And then all our plans will finally see the light of day. The irony is too much, my old friend. Because this time, the quote spoken at the atomic bomb blast will truly apply to you."

            "No…" Bristol sobbed, shutting her eyes tight, wanting so desperately for everything to just fade away, screaming at herself for ever attempting this trip. She'd opened an old can of worms…and everything was falling apart. "No, please God no…"

            "Repeat after me, Bristol." Tarkin whispered into her ear, lowering his hand down over her shoulder and running it along her entire body's length.

            _"I am become death…the destroyer of worlds."_

            And it was then Bristol lifted her head back and screamed into the darkness.

            And she got no answer. No answer but the silence that weighed heavier on her than the loudest bomb blast.

            She was in the doorway now.

            And there was no turning back.


	19. Desperate Strides

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DESPERATE STRIDES

            "6:45 P.M, MHHQ Standard. June 24th, 2131." Signas announced into his voice recorder. On the desk lay another voice recorder…Cain's, of course…but Signas didn't think it was right to use it. So he'd gotten his own.

            He turned about and stared out his window, to Cain's hallowed grave out front. There was still a Hunter guarding it. And from now on, there always would be. That always made him pause. The guard rotations hadn't been his idea. The Hunters had set that up by themselves.

            "No Maverick activity reported today. Of course, considering how much of a blow we gave to them in yesterday's skirmish on Cornus, I can't exactly feel surprised." He continued matter-of factly. "There was damage taken on our side as well. The 21st, especially, lost about a third of its members in the battle. So it seems for the moment, that an informal cease fire's been called on both sides." 

            He got out of Cain's office chair and poked his head out into the MHHQ's hallways for a brief moment before pulling it back in.

            "One thing that the Hunters have made very clear in the four days that I've been here is that I am 'the new guy.'" Signas added coolly. "X and Zero, and the medical reploid, Hazil have been here longer than anyone, for the entire thirteen and some years that the MHHQ has stood. I have begun to realize that they have their own way of doing things, and that, against all rationality, my presence has not helped matters, but served only to exacerbate the already strained bonds." He switched hands, then took a moment to collect his thoughts. 

            "It took an irrational outburst by Zero to prove this fact to me. But now that it has been proven, it does not need repeating. My own knowledge in the matters of how the Maverick Hunters operate is nowhere near their level. I was sent by the GDC to act as James Cain's replacement, and now I realize that I cannot emulate his command style, or the extent of what he did." 

            Signas sat back down and lay the recorder on the desk, lifting his hands up and folding them underneath his chin. "So the inexorable conclusion is that if my role as the new leader of the Maverick Hunters is to succeed, I must find my own niche…my own way of doing things that does not conflict with the statutes already laid down, but will act to enhance the Hunter's capabilities."

            He reached down and shut off the recorder, then leaned back in the chair.

            "These Maverick Hunters…So emotional all the time." He sighed. "And I was always told that emotions made one weak, yet…"

            He shook his head at the thought. _Yet Zero managed to do the most damage of any of the forces in the most recent skirmish. And he always fights and thinks with his heart._

_            "There is still much to be learned, Signas." The new Hunter General mused. _

            He looked over to the scribblings of arrows, circles and triangles arranged on his datapadd, with lines going to and from everywhere.

            "And much to be planned."

            There was planning being done in other parts of the MHHQ as well. Only it wasn't being done by the General of the Maverick Hunters. In a conference room of the MHHQ that had been built completely soundproof and cut off from all power and air circulation, and surrounded by three feet of concrete. It was a 'dead room', designed solely to stop eavesdroppers, recording equipment, and spies from knowing what the devil was being discussed. And in this case, that was just what was needed.

            Willow sat at the conference table, as did Horn, Allegro, and even Bastion and Cleo. Wycost and Doan leaned against the walls at opposite ends of the rectangular room.

            "So that's the gist of it, effectively." Wycost explained, eyes scanning the ceiling, if only because he didn't have the heart to look Bastion in the eyes. Not after he'd failed to keep Bristol safe. "Bristol is back in the clutches of MI9 at their HQ. Willow here was an associate of Bristol's, and helped her to escape. MI9 is a bad thing. VERY BAD. That's how you found her in New Denver."

            "That's why she couldn't remember anything." Willow picked up, looking at Bastion. "She used a memory wiper on the both of us, to prevent the Mavericks from abducting us and using our technological breakthroughs for their own means." She blinked a few times. "Imagine Mavericks with the power of a Berserker Beacon."

            "And now we have to go rescue Bristol." Doan mumbled. "Hell, it beats waiting around here for the next Maverick assault."

            Bastion took in a few deep breaths. And only then did he brush back his brown hair with one trembling hand and turn to look at them all.

            His eyes were hollow then. Because of his loss, and what he knew came next.

            "You're telling me that the woman I pledged my love to was a part of a hidden organization that traces its origins back to before Mega Man and the Robot Rebellions. And that this organization has reached its claws out into every major government organization of the world. And to make matters worse, after the events of the Final Weapon, they deemed all reploids to be a danger."

            Bastion stood up, exhaling another breath full of tension.

            "Also, MI9 is responsible for the reploid murders that have made the Maverick Hunters keepers of mortician's records. Beam staffs through their control chips…And that I might have been another one of their victims, if things had gone differently." 

            He turned about and looked at Wycost.

            "And NOW, she is back at the same place she escaped from, because they found her. And for some reason, they kept her alive, instead of killing her on the spot."

            "I'm sorry, Bastion." Wycost finally uttered. "I made you a promise I'd keep an eye on Bristol, and…"

            "Wycost, SHUT IT." Willow growled. "This guilt isn't going to help anyone. It certainly didn't help Bristol, even though for all purposes, she is the cause of our dilemma in the first place." She harrumphed and turned to Horn and Allegro. "I am sorry about your island."

            "Casualties of war, Willow." Horn said resignedly. "I may not enjoy it, but I am familiar enough with the concept. Bastion and I have a track record of our own." Willow lifted an eyebrow, and Horn had to explain further. "I worked for the Israelis in the R&D Department, much like you and MI9. And Bastion over there was known as The Desert Fire. The Islamic Jihad's crack reploid assassin. For a time, we were enemies."

            "And now?"

            "Begrudged allies." Bastion finally murmured. "Once we moved past the fact I killed his friends, and his weapons helped to kill mine, we got along swimmingly."

            "We're a typical American family." Wycost jested. Cleo rolled her eyes at that and peered over at the inscrutable Doan. The gray armored reploid said nothing.

            "If I may interject a comment." Willow finally interrupted. She stood up and cleared her throat. "Wycost told me we needed to come here to organize, regroup, and plan." She looked around the room, the tenseness in her voice now growing apparent. "But let me remind you that every moment we spend hanging around here is another moment that Bristol draws closer to death…if not something WORSE."

            "That cannot be allowed." Bastion growled. He had the look of a spring waiting to pounce, and everyone in the room knew why. Feeling helpless didn't do much. But that helplessness was to end. "Willow, I'm coming with you. Bristol is my fiancée."

            "The more the merrier." Willow said back in a tight-lipped grin. She looked around. "So that makes me, Wycost, and Bastion. Anyone else care to join us on our merry quest of suicide?"

            "I'll go." Doan mumbled, picking himself up off of the wall and shrugging. "I need to field test my Flight Wings anyhow."

            "I'll go, if you promise not to slice my hand off." Allegro growled. Willow nodded, the tension draining from her face a bit.

            "I promise, Allegro. And for what it's worth, lad, I'm sorry." 

            Horn leaned back in his seat and shook his head.

            "I think in this venture, my dear comrades, I am ill suited." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts and shrugged. "An old man with no dash thrusters and more brains than brawn doth not make a good guerilla, so they say. Besides, now I have to figure out where else I can set up shop. Now that my island is gone."

            "Then it's settled." Willow announced firmly. "Five of us against the uncounted masses into the very heart of MI9." She looked around. "If any of you pray, do it now. And promise me you won't die intentionally."

            "I've been down that road once, milady." Bastion said, crossing his arms. "I don't care to repeat it."

            They all stood up, but Cleo wandered over and gripped Doan by his arm before he could walk out. The Ghost Wind blinked a few times.

            "What?" Cleo stared at him long and hard, then shook her head.

            "Doan, you know I love you. At the same time, I really don't want you dead. So you'd best watch your back on this next mission you want to go on. If you come back dead, I'll kill you."

            There, Doan smiled for a change. "As you wish, Cleo. I'll come back alive." To seal it, she reached up and kissed him fiercely, which he eagerly returned. It continued on for several seconds…

            And then the two noticed that every last person in the room was looking at the two of them.

            "If we're done with our goodbyes, let's worry less about the living and more about the proclaimed dead." Willow snapped.

            Then it was decided.

            It was time to get serious.

            X and Zero were surprised to see Bastion, Cleo, Wycost, J.K. Horn, Allegro, Doan, and an unidentified female step out of the dead room. They'd been alerted someone had been using it…somebody with Commander level clearance.

            The commander of the 21st stopped his easygoing step and looked at them.

            "Well, I'm glad to see you're all up and moving again." 

            "Likewise." X said back, staring at the unruly pack. "But can I ask what Horn and Allegro and Wycost are doing back here?"

            "Surprise party." Wycost said, cracking a grin. "And it's gonna be a Hell of a candle to blow out."

            Zero took a moment to give the red haired reploid a once-over.

            "And who are you supposed to be?" He prodded. The reploid blinked her green eyes and looked back at him.

            "Willow. Does it matter?"

            "We're a little pressed for time right now, fellahs." Horn interjected nervously. "These five have to get going." 

            "You've discovered something about the Mavericks?" X asked hopefully.

            "Not exactly." Bastion replied, his eyes darkening. "My dearest Bristol is in danger." X and Zero looked at one another, and then back at the pack. "Time is of the essence, you two." Bastion continued darkly. "Do I have your word that you will stay out of this matter?"

            "I hope it's nothing criminal." Zero cracked. 

            None of the six looking at him changed their faces from a serious stare. Slowly, Zero's smile faded, until he shook his head. "Well, just be careful. And Bastion, hurry back. Sigma's still out there."

            The Commander of the 21st nodded his head. Sigma's threat…always looming, always dark. And sometime soon, they would have to deal blows with them again.

            Bitterly, Bastion remembered how many in his Unit had been lost.

            "Boy, it seems the world's just out to kill us these days." Wycost grumbled. Willow shrugged.

            "For me, that's not a change." She plucked out the MI9 agent's warp generator she'd stolen, then peered at the return coordinates. Quickly, she rattled them off to the others.

            And then they left. Leaving only X, Zero, Cleo and Julius Kinnian Horn.

            The Blue Bomber of 21XX swiveled on Horn.

            "So what's the deal with all of this?" The elderly reploid turned to face the two greatest Maverick Hunters.

            "Didn't Bastion ask you to stay out of this?" He replied calmly. Zero shook his head.

            "Stay out of it, sure. But I'd like to know why he's leaving us high and dry, especially when Sigma can strike at any given time."

            "They have their reasons." Cleo acquiesced, walking on and out of the intermediate room that he and the two Hunters were in with Horn plodding beside her. "And for your sanity, it's best left untouched. You two have enough of your own problems to deal with without adding our load."

            X and Zero said nothing as Horn and Cleo walked through the sliding hydraulic door and went into the mainstay of the MHHQ. But after they were gone, Zero finally harrumphed.

            "What do you suppose they're blathering about there? For our sanity? Hell…"

            "For now, just let them be." X said calmly. "If Bristol is in the amount of danger she's in, then Bastion has to go and try to save her. And the others feel obligated to as well."

            "For love?" Zero sneered suddenly, prompting X to turn about and look at him. "Love gets you nowhere. Love dies like a rose cut from the bush. And then you're no better than the rose…shriveled, barren, and ruined."

            "Stop letting your own experiences taint other's actions." X chided him. "Bastion's different than you are. And Bristol is different from Iris."

            Zero said nothing at that.

            There was nothing he could say.

             Bristol wished she was dead. 

            It was the truth. After Tarkin had forced her memories back upon her, the horrifying truth of it all dawned back upon her, engulfing her like a tidal wave.

            He'd removed her armor with an auto-recall command, leaving her only a white T-Shirt and gray shorts for modesty. And she still remained shackled to the operations table, only now devastatingly weakened with little to no protection.

            His disposition was frightening. He would act sweet some moments, referring to her as his 'Old Friend', talk as if nothing had happened. Other times, his voice would draw a sinister tone, the grin would fade from his face for toothy malevolence as he sneered at her.

            But what made this so unbearable was his lust. She was a reploid, how he could be attracted to her, she didn't know. There were times in those hours he would get a glaze in his eye…Like now.

            "You're so beautiful, you know that…" He whispered, drawing nearer to her.

            Bristol turned her head away from the sound of his voice, every muscle in her body tensing up in fear as wet tears slid down her cheeks. 

            Tarkin was next to her, slowly running the back of his index finger up and down her arm.

            "Reploids...How naïve humans were." He whispered, reluctantly pulling his finger up her arm one last time and to her shoulder, then up to caress her cheek. 

            He didn't fail to notice the tears. "You know, it's written in a very famous book that God created man in his own image. But the more I examine you and all others like you…What I come to realize is, in effect, humans have become like that supposed divine creator. Only humans created reploids in the image of how they wished they looked." His hand ran up and brushed her tears away from her eyes, and she shivered at the alien sensation on her face.

            "Don't touch me." She whispered, shutting her eyes tighter.

            "Oh?" Tarkin mused humorously. "But Bristol…you're so very beautiful, so very perfect…you were meant to be admired, to be touched."

            "Not by you, Tarkin…" Bristol said more defiantly, her emotional exhaustion seeping into her voice.

            Tarkin snapped at that, yanked her head up by her hair and forced her eyes open by pain alone. She lay there, paralyzed by her restraints and the fierce glare he burned into her.

            "Oh? By who then, Bristol? By him? Bastion??!" 

            He leaned over her, glaring down into her face for a few more moments before he sneered and let go of her hair, causing her head to fall back down against the table with a loud, agonizing thud.

            Bristol gasped as stars and inky blackness filled her eyes. Off in the distance, Tarkin sighed.

            "Oh, well…It's not like I could have ever stood a chance, is it…a man may fall in love with a Goddess, but he can never claim her, never make her his own." 

            In the time Bristol had spent trying to recover from his injury, Tarkin had gone over to his table of instruments.

            "And you know the old saying, Bristol. What we cannot have…we destroy." Tarkin said amusedly.

            "You're a monster…You're all nothing but ruthless, primal fiends!!" Bristol cried out, thrashing about in her bonds.

            "Oh? HUMANS, the fiends?!" Tarkin snapped back, bounding beside her in a moment. Bristol cringed as he leaned down, his hot breath basting her face. "It was not humans that began the Maverick Uprisings. It was not humans that climbed aboard the Final Weapon and plotted to use its main weapon to destroy everything within reach. It was REPLOIDS."

            Bristol shut her eyes and turned away. Tarkin fumed for a moment, almost pulling back his hand to strike her in the face with a hard slap…

            But then he stopped himself.

            "No, physical violence will do little good here." He admonished himself, then smirked. "I was not blessed with the mental structure that could take the strain of your bio-implants…I'd soon as break my hand as I would cause you pain."

            "You always were weak, Tarkin." Bristol growled. "The only redeeming quality about you was the fact you didn't hate us, that you liked working with us…"

            "That's changed." Tarkin reminded her sourly. Bristol looked up, fire burning in her blue eyes.

            "And you're all the more damned because of it."

            Tarkin had to crack a smile there.

            "Oh, how I've missed our little arguments, old friend. Remember when we spoke so passionately about politics, and the tides of history?"

            Bristol met him with silence. And there Tarkin sighed.

            "You're right, I suppose. It is indeed time that we moved to more pressing issues." He walked back over into the dark corner of the room and kept talking. "I haven't forgotten why you are still alive, Bristol. I need that Universal Berserker Frequency, and only you know it."

            "I'll never tell you…" Bristol croaked. "If you had the UBF, you could affect entire groups of reploids…not just one at a time, but hordes…"

            "That's precisely why we need it."

            "That's why I will not tell you." Bristol barked, her rage mixing with her fear. "It doesn't matter what you do to me now. I'll never tell you, NEVER!! I won't be the one responsible for causing such devastation." 

            Tarkin seemed to think over it for a few brief moments, then stepped back into the light. Only now, a menacing object lay in his hand, just out of sight.

            "You no longer have a choice, my dear. For as much as you hold your pride, and the love of your kind close, you long ago lost any power to stop us. MI9 now moves with a speed that cannot be stopped, WILL NOT." Tarkin held the object up to the light, and Bristol was finally able to see it. It was a syringe of some sort, with a green liquid in the tubule and a needle that caused her to freeze up in terror. It wasn't an ordinary needle, metal with the ability to puncture skin. This needle could even go through metal, with its tiny low powered laser. "I assume you recognize this particular device. It's commonly used for reploid surgery, thanks to its ability to pierce the internal skeletons of reploids for more…delicate procedures. And it works in this situation as well." Tarkin calmly tossed the object from one hand to the other. "While you were gone, I got to run many a fun and fantastic experiment. And in all that time, I created a serum. A serum designed specifically for reploids."

            Bristol's eyes stayed wide as she watched him draw closer. Tarkin laughed again. "You see, like humans, reploids have bloodstreams. Humans' carry nutrients, oxygen, the vitals for biologic life. Yours carry nanobots with energy reservoirs, that are used to fuel parts of your body and repair internal damage when combined with the metallic platelets that go along with it. Your bloodstream flows through almost every part of your body…"

            There, Tarkin glared down at her, fire in his eyes. "So what if we made your blood BURN?"

            And the words ended then. Bristol was unable to do a blessed thing as he lowered the laser syringe down to her neck, sought out the artery he knew lay within, and jammed it into her flesh.

            Its operation was completed within fractions of a second. Before Bristol could even cry out from the initial stimulus of pain, her bloodstream had been flooded with the strange fluorescent mixture.

            Tarkin stepped back and folded his arms, grinning darkly.

            "Now, we wait." Bristol blinked a few times, unsure of what he meant.

            And then she realized what he did mean. Every part of her body suddenly felt as if it was being melted from the inside out. She tensed up and cried aloud, her body quaking against the restraints.

            "Now you feel it." Tarkin said quietly, almost sadly. "It was not my choice to create the mixture…I was told to. It was a direct order, you see, you cannot blame me, please don't blame me…It was all them. The Council…" 

            Bristol let out a long moan, her eyes fluttering as the pain faded away and left a dull ache throughout her body. Tarkin sighed and sat down beside her, gently stroking a few loose strands of her hair away from her now flushed, agonized face.

            "It hurts…I know it hurts terribly. But I can make it better, you know." His hand gently went down along the side of her cheek, then gripped her chin. "Tell me the Universal Beacon Frequency, Bristol…If you tell me the UBF, I can stop the pain."

            A part of Bristol was so resigned, that she almost did tell him. But something still stopped her. She locked his gaze with her glassy eyes and took a ragged breath.

            "I'll never tell you, Tarkin…never."

            Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away.

            "So be it." He said, his voice now absent of the tenderness and concern he'd held moments before. There was still reluctance, but it was tempered by purpose. "Until you reveal to me the UBF, the serum will remain in your system. Every three minutes, it will seize you, drive you into convulsions as your bloodstream releases a powerful signal to the nanobots that flow with it to shock you senseless." He let the empty syringe drop to the floor, and crushed it under the heel of his boot. "The serum does one thing, and one thing only, dear Bristol. It turns your body against itself. Your system's nanobots, the thing that sustains it, have now been altered to the task of slowly, but surely burning you from the inside out. I do have the power to stop it…" Tarkin mused sadly, "If you would let me."

            "You would have killed me anyway, Tarkin." Bristol shot back weakly, finding her body unwilling to move.

            The MI9 Doctor seemed to think over that for a moment, then shook his head.

            "They would have…but I…" He pressed a hand to his forehead and winced, as if a sudden migraine had sprung on him.

            He seemed to crumple over a bit, then tottered back into the shadows.

            "Bristol, it's not too late to end this. Tell me the UBF."

            "It doesn't matter how much you torture me, Tarkin…I'll never tell!!" Bristol croaked.

            "Then…" Tarkin began unsteadily. He took a moment to compose himself, then let his dull, sad eyes absorb the dim light that tried to creep into his dark corner.

            "Then you will die."

            Nothing more was said for the next two and some minutes…

            And then Bristol's body clenched up again in convulsions, and she screamed.

            Only this time, Tarkin did not laugh.

            And the darkness and pain remained.

            Kazok shook his head as he sat in their tiny bases' cafeteria, sipping back on a mug of cappuccino. His eyes were dull now, hollow and lonely. 

            He had been born thinking that he was a part of the great Maverick regime, who would destroy the Maverick Hunters and lift their kind up on high as the superior and dominant species of Earth. And now that was all shattered.

            Dolph Reach was still out cold, and would be until tomorrow, floating in that tank of restorative electrogel. Burst, Cume, and Shell were training above ground. As far as he cared, that Iris witch could go jump off a cliff. Sigma valued her above the rest of them…an act that was both stupid and illogical. 

            _Sigma…_

            Angrily, Kazok slammed his coffee mug down on the table, snapping its handle off and causing some of the hot liquid to splatter on his hand. But he didn't notice it.

            They'd all been normal reploids at one time or another. They'd all been a part of URFAWP. Even now, Kazok could bring up only mere wisps of that…Sigma's reconditioning had been far too successful to allow anything more.

            And Sigma had caused them to become Mavericks. To work for him.

            Now, their lives were expendable. In the eyes of Sigma, the Maverick King, their lives were no more important than his own.

            Only Sigma had been killed many times over the past thirteen years, always found a way back. Kazok knew that didn't apply to him, didn't apply to any one of them. If they died, that was it. Game over.

            "Hey!" Came an insistent voice from above. Kazok dully looked up. It was Dash, thankfully. "Kazok, may I ask why you're sitting there with scalding hot cappuccino on your hand, and you don't even care??"

            "We're dead, that's why." Kazok murmured, looking up at her sadly. "We're Mavericks, Dash. And sooner or later, the Hunters will succeed. There's just too many of them, and not enough of us." He picked himself up and cleaned the mess off of his hand, then shook his head. "We're not soldiers in some fantastic revolution. We're just stupid pawns in Sigma's sick little game…a game that he plays now just for the sake of playing."

            "Kazok…" Dash said, horrified. She stepped back and looked around. "What if Sigma hears you?!"

            "He was the one who TOLD ME." Kazok muttered angrily. "And as long as I remain under the control of the Maverick Virus, there's nothing I can do." 

            A sad look on his face, he turned to Dash.

            "Let's go do some training…maybe it'll take my mind off this whole mess."

            "Kazok…" Dash murmured quietly, drawing close to him. She lowered a hand down to his shoulder and let it sit there. "Just what are you thinking…"

            Kazok put his hand on top of hers and looked into her deep eyes.

            "Come on. Please, Dash. Come with me." 

            For Dash, that was easy. After all, she loved Kazok.

            Iris was standing by the exit, watching the news bulletins as Kazok and Dash drew near. She looked up from the monitor and blinked a few times.

            "Where you off to?" The brown haired beauty asked inquisitively.

            "Training." Kazok muttered. "Otherwise, those Hunters are gonna wipe us out next time." Iris smiled, a sweet innocent smile that caused Kazok to bite down on his tongue in disgust.

            There was a time not long ago he would have done that just because he hated her. But now that hatred had turned into pity. 

            Because Iris had no idea of the sick games running through Sigma's mind.

            "Well, just don't get hurt out there, all right?"

            "We won't, Iris." Dash said, smiling a bit and flashing a victory sign. Kazok merely shook his head.

            "We're taking a Landchaser with us." Kazok said, more in retrospect. Iris blinked.

            "Wouldn't it do to take two?" Kazok let one of his gravicrystals float off of his waist and hover just above his hand.

            "You forget my abilities, Iris." The brown haired angel blinked once in recognition, then shrugged sheepishly, a slight blush climbing to her face.

            "So I do. Pardon me." 

            Five minutes later, Dash and Kazok were soaring along the Greenland ice fields, Dash on her Landchaser and Kazok moving by thought alone, the gravicrystals swirling about his body effortlessly. 

            Dash perked her feline ears up and looked over to Kazok, his dark gray eyes barren of all emotion. He didn't even blink, despite the fact the wind caused by their high speeds caused his hair to be blown about like a field of grass. And she'd had enough.

            "Kazok, we're out here. Now are we going to train or not?"

            "No, we're not." Kazok replied back over the comm. Frequency. Dash furrowed her eyebrows and hit the Landchaser's comm switch on the left handlebar.

            "Then WHY THE HELL ARE WE OUT HERE?! Just what are you trying to do, Kazok? Freeze us to death?!"

            Kazok didn't reply over the commlink. But Dash saw him begin to slow down, until he finally dropped to the ground and his gravicrystals drew to his waist, shutting off.

            Dash brought the Landchaser to a halt and stormed over next to him, concern and frustration evident.

            "Damnit Kazok, what's going through that mind of yours?! If we're not training, why are we here?!" 

            And there Kazok didn't bother looking fierce. He didn't even try to look intimidating. He merely stared at Dash with his sad gray eyes.

            "Dash…do you remember anything from before you were Maverick?" Dash's next retort stopped in her throat.

            And that was because she didn't. 

            MI9's HQ was an underground facility in the northern, farm-covered regions of England. Despite the enormity of the organization, and all its wide reaching arms, it was little more than about a mile by a mile. Of course, it was underground.

            A lot of the size problems had been lessened in the months preceding June. After they'd purged the base of all reploids, at least. Now, MI9 HQ was filled only with humans. Whether they were Techs or Enhanceds or otherwise.

            No alarms were set off as the computer detected five inbound warp signals. Why should they? The only people who knew about MI9 HQ's location were Enhanceds, and what few reploids had escaped with their lives. And those reploids were too smart to come stick their head back into the guillotine.

            The transport room operator lazily stared at his screen for a brief moment, then yawned and shrugged.

            "Looks like a pack's coming back home." He looked at the transport capsules, wondering which one would light up at the incoming signals. Maybe a transfer from one of the offshoot bases, maybe even a messenger from Ice Beacon…

            But none of the capsules lit up from the warp signals.

            Instead, five beams of light crashed down from the world above and formed into people. And there the transport operator froze in fear.

            Those weren't MI9 Enhanceds that had appeared. 

            "REPLOIDS…" He gasped loudly, stumbling back. Willow frowned and snapped her beam whip out, not even igniting the chain as she gashed it through his neck and dropped him to the ground to die. 

            She pulled the chain back into her weapon's cylinder in one smooth motion.

            "Great. Just bleeding great." Willow cursed bitterly. "We're here less than two seconds and already we've been spotted."

            "Tact isn't your greatest strength, is it?" Doan mentioned humorlessly. Bastion didn't take heed of the Ghost Wind's comment and clasped a hand on Willow's shoulder.

            "Where is she?" He asked in a tense voice, referring to Bristol. Willow's green eyes glanced at Bastion's worried stare for only a moment before sighing. 

            "We'll check the computer records, and hope to God we don't set off any alarms."

            "I hate these kind of odds." Wycost snapped, folding his hands. "Infiltrating a paramilitary base was never my idea of a fun time, especially not with our limited numbers."

            "We don't exactly have a choice now, do we?" Allegro mumbled, pulling his beam staff out, but not igniting it. "Still, we're here for Bristol. That's it. We find her, we get the Hell out of dodge."

            "No." Willow murmured from the computer console adjacent to the warp capsules. Her eyes were fixated on the screen, and her fingers danced over the keys. "There's more than just finding Bristol to be done here. We have to make sure this Godforsaken place is taken out of commission."

            "Now hold on a second." Wycost chirped suddenly. "You said you'd help us save Bristol. Nothing more."

            "You fools don't get it, do you?" Willow snapped back, turning her head from the display. "MI9 is a sick and corrupt organization. If we don't take it out at the source, then they'll just keep coming back. And next time, they won't be bothering taking down just MI9 forces. They'll attack plain reploids." Bastion blinked once, growing silent as he realized from the dip in his stomach how very right she was…he'd seen the reports, and had almost been one. Willow turned the corner of her mouth upward and shook her head. "Also, if you'll recall correctly, you volunteered to come with me. Not the other way around. So for now, trust my judgement on this matter. Yes, we came here to save Bristol. But we're going to atomize this place at the same time, and save ourselves scads of trouble later."

            "And just how do you intend to do that?" Wycost asked sharply. "Sabotage?"

            "Precisely." Willow answered back without pause. Wycost blinked a few times, then lowered his glasses. 

            The Irish Banshee stood back up and motioned for the others to come over.

            "There's five of us. And they'll know eventually we're here. They'll know we're after Bristol. But what they won't also suspect is a second attack…one at their power core." She pointed to the screen, which was full of a blueprint of the base. "Lovely what you can find in the archives anymore these days…"

            "All we need now is a blinking dot proclaiming, 'You Are Here'." Allegro joked. Willow narrowed her eyes and pressed a key. The aforementioned dot and three words appeared.

            "Happy?" Willow barked. She turned to the others. "Three of us should go and rescue Bristol. The other two should be able to get to the HQ's power core with less difficulty…they won't be expecting a sabotage run, they're expecting a rescue mission. I'll lead the charge to save Bristol. It's my responsibility, after all."

            "I'm coming with you then." Bastion announced, stepping beside her with eyes burning. "Bristol is my beloved, and I would never forgive myself if she were to perish."

            "I'm coming too then, I suppose." Wycost finished. "I have to make sure you stay on the up and up at least." He continued, staring at Willow. She merely gave him a dirty look and turned back to the screen.

            "Well, I suppose that leaves me and Allegro to blow up the power core." Doan volunteered drily. "Any exact procedure to follow?"

            "Increase the reaction rate by 15% and then slag the controls." Willow ordered. "That will produce enough of an explosion to take this entire facility down and leave the surrounding areas untainted by radioactive fallout."

            "A microfusion detonation?" Allegro whistled appreciatively. "Damn, that's gotta be a nifty trick to see." Willow lowered her index finger to the screen for Doan.

            "We're here." She pointed to the blinking red dot. A green dot appeared off in the distance of the base, and Willow tracked to it. "This is the microfusion generator, or the power core as its generally known. You should have little difficulty getting there, MI9 didn't design its HQ to be a maze or a challenge."

            "I'll keep that in mind." Doan replied, still without emotion. Willow narrowed her eyes at the gray colored reploid.

            "Don't you ever smile?"

            "Doan's a stoic sort of fellow." Wycost volunteered. He turned to look at his old friend. "It's not his way to show emotion. If it's important enough, overpowering enough, he will. But until then, no. You'll get used to that mask, if you hang around him enough." 

            "Sadly, his mission profile differs from ours." Willow chirped. She looked over to Allegro, then back at Doan. "When you two finish your task, warp out."

            "What about the rest of you guys??" Allegro asked in sudden concern.

            Willow mulled over it for a moment and shrugged.

            "If we make it out, we make it out. If we don't…" She lowered her face, then shook her head. "If we donnae make it out alive, then ye've at least gotten rid of the rest of these murderers." 

            Wycost took note of her sudden shift out of accentless English back to her traditional Irish lilt. That was becoming an indicator anymore of her mood. When she was feeling distressed, her control over it faded.

            Doan noted her distinct accent change as well. For him, it meant she wasn't a dreamer with her head in the clouds. A very grounded lady…and considering her past, the causes of it were plain as day. She treated this mission as if it might be her last. As if she expected it to be. 

            "So once we've set this place to blow, we don't worry about you. We just escape." Doan summarized. Willow lifted her head and looked him in the face. Her stony look was proof enough that was exactly what she'd told him to do. 

            "So be it." Bastion said tersely, pulling a beam saber out into his left hand. He looked around the room, to his four allies. "This will not be easy. I too, remember my experiences in paramilitary service. Never underestimate the forces here, not for a moment."

            "Have you fought Enhanced humans before?" Allegro asked Bastion suddenly. Bastion blinked.

            "No…"

            "Then shut up about telling us what to expect." Allegro finished, blasting Bastion with the comeback.

            "But he is right." Willow scolded Allegro firmly. "Though he hasn't fought MI9 Enhanceds like the rest of us, he is wise enough to recognize the dangers of this." Willow turned and looked at him. "Bristol did well in meeting you…maybe you're intelligent enough you could accomplish what I failed to."

            "What was that?" Bastion asked, lifting an eyebrow. Willow's green eyes faded a shade or two.

            "Keep her safe from danger."

            They only waited a few more moments before parting in different directions. Bastion, Wycost and Willow traced down the northern path of hallways that led to the R&D labs, and Doan and Allegro to the south for the power core.

            Allegro whistled as Doan popped his new 'Archangel' flight wings and activated their maglev functions, hovering above the floor and soaring along silently.

            "Damn…that thing actually works!"

            "We'll try the thrusters later." Doan muttered drily, drawing his beam lance out, but refusing to ignite it. "Let's just hope it doesn't explode."

            "Why would it do that?" Allegro chirped, grinning from ear to ear. "Why, you almost sound as if you don't trust it…"

            "Did you build it?" Doan asked, keeping his speed slow enough that Allegro could run beside him easily. Allegro nodded.

            "Yeah, I had the pleasure of helping out with its construction…"

            "Then I don't trust it." Doan replied easily. 

            Allegro thought he saw Doan crack a smile. Almost.

            "Let's just hope the others make it out all right…" Allegro finally said, turning his head to face in front of him. "I'd hate to be the one to have to go back and tell Horn and the Hunters that they lost friends because of a botched rescue attempt on the HQ of a hidden organization the world's never heard about."

            "Somehow, I doubt they'd believe us." Doan answered back easily. His next thought chilled his spine.

            "For this one…we're on our own."

            If anyone had bothered to look for X and Zero, they wouldn't have found them anywhere in the MHHQ. They'd simply dropped off an all-purpose message to Signas and the higher ranking Hunters they were going off for training, and if anyone bothered to contact them outside of dire emergency, they'd be roast.

            X and Zero had been to a lot of places over the years, and they never tired of finding good empty spaces with varied terrains to battle in. 

            Such was the case now, as they maneuvered about the Energen crystal mines of Cornus Island. The GDC had long ago thrown up their hands and given up on telling the two of them to stop bothering them. Now, as long as X and Zero promised not to blow up or wreck anything with the crystal mining operations, they pretty much had free reign wherever they went. After all, it was the least the world government could do, for the two greatest Maverick Hunters and saviors of the human race.

If only they knew that Zero was the true cause of all the world's Maverick problems, the Crimson Hunter mused bitterly.

            Not like it mattered now. Like X had told him, you can't change the past. You can only move on.

            For this little escapade, they'd moved into a recently abandoned section of the mine, one that hadn't been there when X had been forced to come through with all guns blazing back in December of 2118. X had easily found his way down to it, due to the fact this new shaft had been dug directly across from the minor tunnel that had housed his Retribution Armor's helmet upgrade. Of course, that upgrade capsule had long since vanished. Dr. Light's capsules, with an exception to the information capsule at Cossack's lair, had a penchant for dropping off the goods and running home to mama…where home was for them.

            This new vein of Energen was different, in that the veins ran up and down, presenting a series of confusing mirrors that made it hard to gauge exactly where an opponent lay.

            Which was, X reminded himself as he made sure his Buster wasn't whining with a charge, why Zero and he were here. Silently, they crept about the uneven floor, both taking care not to shatter the tiny crystal shards scattered about the floor. The sound would have been enough to tip off their locations.

            Zero's beam saber was also quiet, as like X, he opted to keep his Buster primed. Once again, no charge was fed to it.

            The only noise present in the entire room of slightly marred and askew mirrors was a gentle wind that rustled through the corridors, rustling the shards on the ground, and in some larger part, blowing past the Energen crystals with enough force that they began to resonate. Thus, an unearthly minor chord accompanied the wind's low moan, a chord that changed all the time, occasionally slipping into synchronization as a major chord. As if their battle fought here was being sung to them, the room swayed with its own somber tune.

            X narrowed his eyes and ducked a little lower. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Zero comi…no, wait, that was just a reflection of Zero. An angled reflection that distorted and walked in a different direction as it passed over a ridge in the Energen's side. Calmly, X kept his Buster at the ready, but refused to fire. No, firing might give away his position, and in this mess of things, that wasn't exactly something he felt like doing. Not against Zero, undoubtedly the best Hunter…

            That was the difference between them. Zero could fight no matter what the situation. That was a part of his heritage, that ability to relish the battle.

            X however, didn't fight along those lines. For X to fight—really, truly fight, like he'd done in every Maverick Uprising, there needed to be a threat, one that pushed him over the edge. So for this scenario, Zero might very well have the upper hand…

            Which was, X reminded himself, why they were here. He frowned and quietly worked his way around another jutting crystal shining blue in the dim light. A part of the fire that helped to fuel X's 'rage', as it might be called, came from his armors. The sole surviving legacy left to him from his father, X's armors were all designed to enhance his abilities, give him an edge. It was thanks to that edge he'd always come out on top.

            But now those armors were gone. And so X had come to the sobering conclusion that if he was to continue as a Maverick Hunter, that he needed to learn how to fight without that edge.

            Zero let his green eyes flow over the room. Silently, he gritted his teeth…leave it to X to find a bizarre hunting ground. He'd have to remember this environment when he got back to the MHHQ. The 'Techs would have a field day reconstructing it for the sims. It was a maze, a giant confusing maze of passageways filled with ghost images that taunted and teased him. Every time he thought he saw X, it turned out to be just one of countless reflections. And thanks to how the chamber was formed, he couldn't rely on sound either. Between the wind's moans, the Energen crystals' resonant song, and the undeniable echo, this environment was meant more to force your senses into uselessness.

            "Aaw, FRACKIT." Zero finally shouted out, hearing his voice come back at him from a thousand directions.

            X's reflections all perked their heads up, but just like Zero, they all were completely confused. Zero sighed once, then lifted his right arm up and popped a blast off from his Buster.

            The Energen crystal jutting from the ceiling to the ground slightly to the left in front of him exploded in a shower of glittering dust and the sound of breaking glass. 

            One of X's reflections went with it.

            "So that's how it's going to be, huh?" X called back, from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "You're going to go off and shoot everything in sight, and hope you get lucky and peg the real me instead of a reflection?"

            "It beats walking around here groping in front of us until our foreheads bounce off of each other." Zero called back, a grin on his face.

            "Huh. Any rules?"

            "No rules. Just don't maim me." Zero called back, finally letting his Buster begin to draw in a substantial charge. X laughed a little bit and shook his head.

            "The same rules apply to me."

            "Why should the rules apply to you?" Zero teased, pouting a bit. "You're the friggin' hero, fer Chrissakes. You always overcome any situation you're put into. Why, fate is smiling sunshine out its ass for ya!"

            "Well then, remind fate to put its pants back on." X called back with a snicker. He lifted his Buster and fired off a supershot.

            The blast's concussion rang about the room, but that didn't surprise Zero as much as the sight of twenty green colored spherical supershots screaming towards him. Despite himself, Zero dropped to the ground and covered his head.

            Three Energen crystal pillars disintegrated, and three more reflections vanished. When the sound of the Buster discharge faded, Zero could pick out the echoes of X's laughter. Disgustedly, the Crimson Hunter lifted his head up and glared at the nearest reflection of his partner.

            "What's so damn funny?"

            "The way you hit the deck like that…God!!" X's laughing slowly dropped into a snicker. "I love how these reflections work, you know?"

            "Hmph!" Zero called back, standing back up and wiping the crystal shards off of his legs. "If you loved that, you're gonna love this more." He lifted up his own arm and fired. But unlike X, he didn't stop firing.

            By the time he finally did, there were ten less reflections. Which left eleven X's.

            And one was the real deal. Zero smirked and lifted his Buster higher.

            "Now we reach the inevitable dispute…eventually, we'll take out all of these Energen pillars that keep distracting us. And when that moment comes, we'll just be facing each other."

            X's reflections grinned, lifted their Busters and fired a low level shot. In a shower of glittering crystal shards, another reflection exploded away. Zero didn't bother to blink.

            "Well then…let's get started."

            The workers a quarter mile up the shaft could hear the noise that X and Zero produced. Calmly, they shook their heads and got back to work.

            The only thing they prayed for was that the two of them wouldn't cause the whole place to come crashing down.

            Tarkin wasn't expecting an unfamiliar siren to suddenly blare from every speaker in the R&D labs. Not by a longshot. 

            He twirled about, his eyes appearing brighter by the lights growing brighter, then switching to red. 

            "Hmm??" He pondered, stunned for a moment. "Just what does that sound mean?" 

            Bristol said nothing, still trembling from the last attack of Tarkin's serum. Tarkin shrugged and walked over to the wall, depressing a switch.

            "Base, this is the R&D lab. What's the meaning of all this noise?" 

            "You pick the worst times to come asking us about noises." A gruff voice called back. "We've been INFILTRATED."

            "Infiltrated?!" Tarkin called back, his voice gaining a note or two of worried inflection. "By whom, praytell?"

            "It's Willow." The operator replied back angrily. "And the bitch brought two friends along for the ride."

            "Can't you handle three measly reploids??" Tarkin asked sharply. "It took only two to bring in Bristol."

            "They're well armed…We're getting the Enhanceds to take them down, but they move with such speed and power it's difficult. They're heading towards you, they must be after Bristol…"

            "Well, STOP THEM!!" Tarkin called back angrily. "I'm not through interrogating her yet. Surely, you must realize The Cleansing all depends on the knowledge inside her brain!"

            "We're aware of it, doc." The operator called back darkly. "We'll do our best."

            Tarkin cut off the connection and sighed, putting a hand to his head.

            "Imbeciles…all of them imbeciles, so caught up in their own greatness…" He turned about and walked over to Bristol, hands tucked into his lab coat pockets. "Bristol, dearest, are you awake?"

            The reploid lying shackled to the table couldn't turn her head to acknowledge. Her eyes were dull and glassy with pain, not focusing on anything. Her mouth lay slightly open, as if in a scream that had never finished. Tarkin's eyes grew sad for a moment.

            "Bristol…Bristol, come on…" 

            He waited a few more moments, then sighed and reached for a datapadd nearby. In one smooth movement, he brought it up and pointed it at Bristol, forcing the reploid to let out a slow, agonized moan.

            "Bristol, I need that Universal Berserker Frequency."

            "Never…Never, Tarkin…"

            The human's face turned bright purple, and he reached down and dragged her head up by her hair.

            "Damnit Bristol, I've got no time for your self-destructive altruism!!"

            "Why not?" Bristol wheezed, her eyes fluttering. "You always…had time for me…before…"

            "I didn't have Willow and two others breathing down my neck then."

            Bristol's eyes fluttered with new life at that.

            "What…" Tarkin nodded.

            "Willow and two others are headed this way. They're trying to rescue you, I imagine."

            "Willow…" Bristol croaked, shuddering again. But this time, Tarkin noted in surprise, it wasn't from the serum he'd dosed her with. "She…came back…"

            "Truth be told, I thought that the lot of you were more intelligent than to risk everything on returning to this place." Tarkin muttered. "But they'll be too late. Even if they manage to force their way through the Enhanceds, it will be too late for you. I will have obtained the UBF, and your life will be meaningless."

            "You'll never get it from me, NEVER…" Bristol stammered again. And there, Tarkin smiled.

            "Oh, I will. You just may not appreciate the method."

            Bristol's blood froze. "You wouldn't…" She murmured in dull horror.

            Tarkin sighed. "Sad to say, I would. In this scenario, I see no other way about it. You're highly uncooperative." Calmly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cylindrical object the size of a small microphone. It was smaller than the model Bristol had first made, but she recognized it all too quickly. "Whala." Tarkin announced, waggling an eyebrow.

            "A Berserker Beacon…" Bristol moaned. Her blue eyes filled with tears. "You would drive me mad to get your answer? You would kill me for it?"

            "You killed my heart." Tarkin snapped. 

            "You're not the Tarkin I knew…"

            "Gee, how smart we've become over the past few weeks." Tarkin sneered. "So astute, so perceptive, so STUPIDLY OPTIMISTIC." He leaned down next to her until his head was just above hers. "Killing you will be a pleasure."

            Bristol screamed in rage, snapped her head forth with enough force to snap Tarkin's head back and snap it off of its brittle neck.

            His head did reel backwards in stunned shock…But Bristol didn't get the desired effect.

            Before her stunned eyes, Tarkin's face collapsed inwards on itself in a field of blue holomorphic energy. And then Bristol realized with a very dry throat that it wasn't Bernard Tarkin, human MI9 scientist standing before her.

            The fritzed holographic projector headband about the figure's forehead blinked a few more times before crumpling into scattered pieces of Energen, plastic, and metal onto the floor.

            The gray hair was gone, replaced by a dark black with a stripe of magenta running through it. The cold gray eyes were replaced by piercing brown ones. And the face changed. It wasn't Tarkin, it…it was…

            "You bitch." Fannir snarled in a far less scratchy voice, putting a hand to his forehead and wincing from the blow. "Do you know how expensive those things are to make?!"

            "Fannir…" Bristol croaked, shaking her head back and forth and blinking her eyes. "It can't be, they killed you, Willow saw…they killed you, they all tore you apart…"

            "They killed the real Bernard Tarkin." Fannir muttered sourly, shaking his head and letting one hand slip back into his lab coat pocket. "He was in the way, he was such a naive freak…Keeping him around would only bring difficulty. And what if he decided to blow our entire cover, out of some grand and defiant act of grandeur, eh? No, that was not an acceptable option for MI9. That was who Willow saw being brutally murdered, torn limb from limb before they split his skull apart with the piercing blade of a beam staff."

            "Then why did they keep you alive…" Bristol whispered, blinking back tears of disbelief and raging emotions that still threatened to crush her. There, Fannir shrugged, his face drawing into a neutral expression.

            "Everyone else was destroyed, and I was still alive. They were all dead because of you, Bristol." Fannir pounded onto Willow, jamming his knees up into her abdomen as he sneered down at her face, but keeping a fair enough distance she couldn't headbutt him again. "It's all your fault, Bristol. It's all your freaking fault." He spat out that sentence with murderous intent, slapping her across the face. "I know that now…they had to break me to make me realize it, but I know now. It's all your fault, you worthless SLUT. All your FAULT!!" 

            Bristol absorbed another stinging slap to her cheek, feeling her weakened head droop to one side and the tears in her eyes fleeing from their inertia to the cold ground below.

            "You just had to keep building, didn't you…" Fannir snarled again, jumping off of her and smoothing the wrinkles out of his lab coat. "And you kept building and building, and plotting…Oh my yes, I know all about your most top secret research…You had constructed the Berserker Beacons, you said, to help in the fight against the Mavericks. But all along, your cold heart had another purpose. You were working towards building a Berserker Beacon that would afflict humans…You were Maverick, Bristol. YOU WERE MAVERICK!!"

            A part of Bristol wanted to tear Fannir apart, wanted to see him be atomized inch by excruciating inch. But another part of her found his words of insanity tearing her own heart apart.

            They'd gotten to him. They'd tortured him, terrorized him, snapped him like a twig. And slowly, they'd rebuilt his personality into the twisted amalgamation standing before her. She knew it, God she knew it…

            "Fannir, what did they do to you?" She cried out. 

            Fannir stopped his rant and looked puzzled for a moment. But then he tilted his head back and laughed aloud for several moments.

            "What did they do to me? What did they do to ME?!" Fannir repeated back disbelievingly. "They showed me the TRUTH. They showed me just how heartless you were, how you were plotting with all the others…you were all plotting, you were going to destroy MI9, were going to go Maverick…How all reploids would follow the same path." He backflipped a few times and landed smoothly, his lab coat gently falling to the ground to reveal him standing in his full magenta armor. "They gave me new life, new purpose…I alone had survived the necessary purge. For I alone was capable of redemption. They kept me around, I was to assume the duties of Tarkin, to act for all purposes as if nothing amiss had gone on with him. Stability was kept…The projects moved on. Ice Beacon moved on. But now, we've reached that final sticky point…The Universal Berserker Frequency, Bristol. NOW."

            "NEVER!!" Bristol snapped back. Her defiant taunt ended with her struggling to rise from her bench, feeling reploid adrenaline being pumped through her.

            But then the serum took hold again…Once more, Bristol felt her entire body burn from the inside out. And there was nothing to stop it.

            Fannir laughed again, bitterly. Any sense of compassion had faded.

            "Perhaps the toughest part about my past they had to show me the truth about was my feelings for you. God, how naïve I was then. So enamored by you, by your perfect flawless beauty." Fannir's eyes burned over her body, humiliating her further. "So many times I desired you, desired you in ways that I could not have you…because we were reploids. Because we were artificial. I wanted to make you MINE, forever, for all eternity…" He shook his head.

            "But such things are unnatural, unacceptable. And the dream was shattered, Bristol. Now I have only the truth to guide me." He leaned back, relishing the quiet, forsaken moans Bristol made. "But now it all ends. The world will be cleansed of our kind, Bristol." Fannir grinned from ear to ear. "With the Universal Berserker Frequency, Ice Beacon will be able to completely DESTROY all reploids, both foreign and MI9, once and for all. The world will at last have the peace it cries out for, MI9's ultimate goal will be accomplished…"

            "Fannir, no…They're…lying…" Bristol groaned. 

            Fannir sneered.

            "You are the liar, 'old friend'. And now, I will ask you one last time nicely. WHAT. IS. THE. UBF."

            "Never…" Bristol wheezed, shaking her head. "God, the UBF is too powerful…"

            Fannir snorted once, lifted the tiny cylinder and depressed a switch on it.

            And then The Trembling filled Bristol.

            Already weakened both physically and emotionally by the serum still coursing through her, Bristol had no chance to stop the nightmarish flood of images, sounds and abject fear that the Berserker Beacon filled her with.

            "One way or another, this session draws to an end…" Fannir taunted darkly. 

            "The UBF or your life, dear, fate is yours to spend."

            "Boy, I get tired of hearing those damn things…" Wycost snapped, shooting out a nearby klaxon on the wall. "So much for infiltrating quietly."

            "As long as they don't use Berserker Beacons, we'll be set." Willow acknowledged drily. "Although I doubt they will. None of them were expecting a raid this deep into their organization."

            They kept going, Bastion's boots skimming the ground as he flew slightly ahead of the two grounded warriors. Willow looked up for a moment, frowning. "And just where did you pick those beauties up?"

            "They were a replacement to my original Flight Armor, the Powerstorm." Bastion replied, keeping his eyes glued ahead for danger. "These were designed primarily by Bristol during her time at the Maverick Hunters…But Hazil and even J.K. Horn had a hand in its construction."

            "Really…" Willow said, gaining a slight smile. "The fool wipes her own memory, and she's still able to build miracles. That's Bristol for you."

            "COMPANY!" Bastion shouted, stopping his forward motion and hovering in one spot. All eyes turned ahead, and found themselves staring down six MI9 Enhanceds, all in skintight bodysuits.

            "You die here, reploids." The leader, a female with striking black hair announced bitterly. Willow merely drew her beam whip out and extended the links.

            "Wycost?"

            "I'm on it." The Bronx Bomber grunted, lifting his Buster up. Willow and Bastion shut their eyes tightly, and Wycost made sure his sunglare glasses were down.

            Before any of the MI9 Enhanceds knew what was happening, Wycost fired off a round of his Strobe Flash, blinding them all for the briefest of moments.

            "BLAST YOU!!" One of them cried, igniting his beam staff and charging ahead blindly.

            Willow activated her beam whip and sliced him in half before he ever got close, acting without remorse. "Come on you two, don't stand there, FIGHT!" She called back tersely.

            "Way ahead of you." Bastion called back, tilting the points of his wings forward until they were pointed at the massed, but rapidly scattering blind MI9 Enhanceds. Powerful bolts of lightning poured out from the wingtips, hurled themselves down on the Enhanceds and causing them to clench up in seizures. As a side effect, Wycost noted, the electrical burst also shorted out their EM shielding.

            "Coming THROUGH!!" Wycost bellowed, dashing ahead and slamming them all into the corridor walls…hard. He could hear their bones crack from the wicked impact.

            But they'd live for now.

            "Let's keep going, boys." Willow said quickly. "If they got six Enhanceds together this quickly, there'll be more!" No arguments arose from the Commander and ex-Hunter of the 21st Unit.

            Painfully, one of the surviving MI9 operatives reached down to their waist and pulled up a comm clipped to it.

            "This is Watson…the buggers got past us…they're strong, be care…" Then his blinded eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed, the trauma of his injuries too intense to endure any longer.

            "Watson…WATSON, RESPOND!!" The comm crackled. A pause, and then a powerful malediction. "All units respond! All Enhanceds…Compound has been infiltrated, consider suspects to be armed and highly dangerous. Repeat…"

            "So, who set off the alarms?" Allegro asked nervously, having to dash intermittently to keep up with Doan's sudden increased speed.

            "More than likely, they did." Doan answered back. "Let's just hope that they aren't getting in over their heads."

            "Hey, they got Wycost, don't they?" Allegro asked merrily. "Geez, if they got him, they're good to go." Doan shrugged.

            "We can hope so." 

            They reached a branch in the hallway, and Doan turned to Allegro.

            "Was it left or right?"

            "Uhh…Right!" Allegro answered unsurely. Doan rolled his eyes.

            "For our sake, I hope you're correct."

            They charged down the right hallway, ignoring the shut doorways for the most part and relying on brief glimpses.

            "From what I remember, the power core is beyond a door at the end of this corridor." Allegro announced as they rounded the corner.

            Both stopped dead in their tracks as they were left facing an empty wall. Doan waited a few moments and then sighed.

            "Sure it wasn't the left path?"

            "Oh, like you haven't made some bonehead mistakes in your time." Allegro snipped back. "Let's just turn around and go ba…"

            Allegro stopped turning as soon as he laid eyes behind him.

            Four MI9 Enhanceds were glaring back at them.

            "That's as far as you go, reploid scum." One of them announced. Doan and Allegro lit their beam weapons, but refused to jump ahead in the narrow corridor. 

            Doan narrowed his eyes. They were about nine feet apart…Either these guys had been following them, or they'd been in those rooms they'd passed. Either way…

            "Allegro, you're a terrible bloodhound."

            "I'm a terrific shitzu." Allegro said, letting loose with a dry chuckle.

            Doan's eyes had long since stopped watching the ex-URFAWP reploid. Now they were turned on the figure in front of the pack, who now reached to his waist for…

            _Oh, great…a comm. Well, not today!_

            Doan positioned his beam lance's blade just right, then activated its hidden Saber Flare.

            The blade screamed out twelve feet, easily clearing the gap between the two sides.

            The head MI9 Enhanced human let out a cry of surprise and dismay as the lance's plasma blade buried itself into and through his comm, slagging it into uselessness. Doan calmly flicked the blade, hoping to put the fool out of commission.

            He succeeded only in delivering a grazing blow to the EM shield surrounding the MI9 operative. They all leapt back warily, now watching Doan with more murder in their eyes.

            "Sorry, but ET no phone home." Doan said calmly, letting his beam lance shrink back to its normal length.

            "You'll pay for that, you…"

            The MI9 operative didn't have the opportunity to continue his growling threat.

            Because Allegro and Doan were already charging towards them with their beam weapons raised high.

            "You don't remember, do you?" Kazok pressed bitterly. "God, he's taken it away from you…away from me, from all of us…" Dash stood there and blinked back with a slightly puzzled and afraid look.

            "Who's taken what?" She finally asked, managing a weak growl. Kazok shook his head, his dark gray eyes seemingly staring straight into her head.

            "Sigma." He finally muttered, his quiet voice gaining a note of anger. "Sigma has taken everything from us." He reached down and plucked a gravicrystal from his waist, holding it in the palm of his hand. "Dash, there was a time I didn't have these. There was a time you didn't have those TitaniTefloAlloy claws. There was a time when we weren't Maverick."

            "You're crazy…" Dash whispered, her eyes wide and ears pressed back against her head. "You're making things up!!"

            Kazok's hands reached down and gripped her shoulders. "I'm NOT." He hissed at her, his eyes flickering with the beginnings of tears. "God, Dash, you can feel it too. That something's missing. Ever since we got into this mess, Sigma's been avoiding the key issue…just HOW did we become Maverick? And yesterday, I figured out why…it's because he infected us, Dash. The Maverick Virus…"

            "No, it can't be…"

            "Dash, REMEMBER!" Kazok screamed, gripping her shoulders tighter. Dash screamed and clutched at her head. Her eyes squinted shut, her entire body began to grow weak and collapse.

            And then Kazok felt a throbbing pain rush through his mind as well…

            _The Virus…fighting back…_

            The two Mavericks collapsed beside one another, screaming for only a few more moments before their shudderings stopped, and they collapsed.

            "Felicity Prowl…" 

            "Here." Came the short, but well mannered grunt. The URFAWP director at the front of the hovertransport blinked a few times, then finally recognized where the voice had come from.

            The feraloid near the back wearing casual clothes. Quietly, Felicity let her ears twitch a few times and stared back. "You heard me, right?"

            The director, Korlyn, according to his nametag finally nodded. It was odd for a reploid to have a two part name. Most reploids were only given a first name, because that was all they ever needed.

            Still, he finally cleared his throat and moved on. "Hyunia?"

            Felicity leaned back in her seat and stared up at the ceiling, wishing for all the world she was somewhere else but here, participating in roll call.

            "He gets to you, doesn't he?" Came a voice from across the aisle. Felicity's right ear twitched, and she turned to the sound of the voice. 

            Staring back at her was a black haired human-type reploid with warm gray eyes.

            "Pardon?" She queried. The fellow URFAWP employee shrugged his shoulders.

            "Korlyn is just old fashioned. He still thinks all reploids should only get one name. But don't pay attention to him. I find it interesting that there's another reploid out there with two names aside from a few friends of mine and J.K. Horn." The individual sitting in the seat across from Felicity extended his hand. "My name's Kazok. How do you do, Miss Prowl?"

            "Miss Prowl…" Felicity murmured, a toothy half grin coming to her face despite herself. "That always did have a nice ring to it."

            Up front, Korlyn continued to rattle off names. Nobody had paid the driver any heed as they'd gotten on board, despite the fact that unlike most, he insisted on wearing a long brown cloak with a dark hood. Nobody noticed how the driver's hands, long clawed things, clenched at the wheel, or the scratch marks inlaid into the rubber padding. 

            "So what rank are you, Kazok?" 'Miss Prowl' asked. Kazok scratched at his head and shrugged. 

"The last time I checked, I was something along the lines of a mid-lieutenant." Felicity's eyebrows arched up.

            "Mid-lieutenant? Just how long have you been in URFAWP?"

            "About two months." Kazok said with a waspish grin. "Hell, I don't understand it much myself, but if these guys think I can do a good job, then so much the better. Apparently, I'm smart."

            "Well, you're definitely a smart _ass." Felicity pressed, smiling back. Kazok chuckled a bit, then nodded his head._

            "So how about you? What's your rank?"

            "I just got here a week ago." Felicity murmured, her face reddening a bit. "This is my first mission with you all."

            "Well, some helpful advice." Kazok said, lifting a finger. "This is URFAWP. Which means we don't kill things. We build things."

            "Unless of course, we're tearing something down!" Came a guffaw from behind Kazok.

            The black haired reploid rolled his eyes for a moment, then motioned a thumb behind him.

            "Miss Prowl, allow me to introduce you to one of our fellow URFAWP crew. We call him Snaps Torte."

            Felicity turned around, then literally jumped in her seat. A massive Turtloid class reploid was staring down at her, waggling an eyebrow.

            "How the…"

            "Hell did I get in here?" Snaps pushed back. He shrugged. "URFAWP deals with a wide variety of reploids. And I'm a useful one to them."

            "Snaps naturally has a high defense and power rating." Kazok explained. "Anytime we're doing demolition work, we just have him curl up into his shell and roll through the building. He can make it collapse faster than TNT does."

            "That's a wonderful skill to have on a job resume." Dash said, when her voice came back to her. Snaps harrumphed for a moment with a hurt look on his face, then resumed his blank stare.

            Kazok waved his hand in the air. "It's not something we usually joke about. Snaps may be big, but he's not stupid. He hates to be thought of as just another lumbering oaf. Pride."

            "Aah." Felicity said, shaking her head. She stared down at her feet and blushed. "There's just a lot I still need to learn…I don't know if I'm ready for this."

            "Shoot, you'll do fine." Kazok said, patting her shoulder. "None of us in URFAWP came into this mess KNOWING we'd do good. We just got good, with the belief we could accomplish something." Kazok lifted a finger, and Dash watched him out of the corner of her eye. "Experience will serve you well in all areas of life, Felicity. Just watch everything with open eyes, and you'll always come out on top."

            Maybe it was in the way Kazok said it, or his charming smile, or just his general upbeat view on everything that made Felicity Prowl relax the tension in her body and finally crack an honest smile.

            "Kazok, I think I might like this after all." She finally said.

            Up front, Korlyn finally finished rattling off his list of names. And nobody heard the bus driver clench his hands tighter around the hovertransport's controls.

            "Them?? You want them? Of course, but…Well, fine…Yes, I can see promise in them too."

            Korlyn cleared his throat and reached for the PA mike to his left.

            "All right everyone, we're finally ready to take off!" He got a few pathetic cheers and some very dramatic boos in reply. The driver reached down to the repulsors and activated them, and the transport took off.

            "Now then, it's time for me to tell you about our latest mission." Korlyn said with a wide, somewhat fake smile plastered across his face.

            In the back, Snaps Torte cupped his hands around his mouth. "PANTY RAID!!" Almost everyone in the transport laughed, even the few scattered female reploids in the pack. Korlyn's face visibly reddened.

            "Not quite." He harrumphed, clearing his throat. "We've been assigned to oversee the rebuilding of some old style log cabins up in Northern Alaska which were recently discovered by the Historical Preservation Society. Now, the supplies are already there on their various sites, and the cabins are about half a mile apart, scattered in a group of twenty. So we'll be dividing into teams for this."

            "I CALL WOMBAT!" Came a voice from the rear again.

            "I'm afraid I get to decide your teams." Korlyn interjected sternly. "Now, I realize this mission may seem boring, but I'll have you know you'll be staring into history when you're helping to rebuild these log cabins. There was a time that humans lived on the frontiers and fought the wilderness…"

            "And they died." Came a sudden growling voice from nearby.

            Dead silence reigned over the interior of the hovertransport before a now fully flustered Korlyn could manage to speak up again.

            "Who said that?" He hissed, in a murderous tone.

            There, the pilot of the hovertransport set it to autopilot and stood up, his dark red eyes burning from within the folds of his cloak's hood.

            "I did."

            Before Korlyn could speak again, the pilot had leapt on top of him and slashed him in two with a flash of metal from underneath the sleeves of his cloak.

            And then panic took over in stunned and surprised shouts.

            "SILENCE!!" The driver snapped, with a sound that resembled a feral yawp more than it did a raging bellow. As if his words carried a hidden power, every last person aboard froze.

            There, the driver began to chuckle.

            "Well then…I'm afraid our current mission has been cancelled." With trembling, scrawny hands, he reached up and pulled the hood of his cloak back.

            Dark eyes burned at them then, dark eyes put into the skull of a furry face with a mouthful of teeth.

            "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Fluid Ferret." A hand extended out from the sleeve of his cloak and pointed a metallic, dangerous looking claw finger. "And make no mistake about it. I am a Maverick."

            "No…" Someone up front grunted in surprise. "NO!! The Maverick Hunters…"

            "Left me for dead." Fluid Ferret corrected, shaking his head. "Only they forgot the strength of will that a Maverick holds." The hand went down, and then a murky blackness filled the hovertransport, a dark cloud that spread from the front of the bus and attacked all.

            The grip on the URFAWP recruits suddenly became many times worse. Where as they had been frozen by fear before, now their own bodies turned against them, refusing even the slightest turn of their head.

            "A rule of thumb to remember, dear URFAWPians." Fluid laughed bitterly. "Never underestimate a Maverick. In this, the Hunters have always failed." 

            In the back, Snaps Torte, Kazok and Dash all strained against the sudden paralysis. 

            "Impossible…" Kazok grunted, his fingers trembling. "The Mavericks…all gone, all destroyed…"

            "He's insane!" Snaps bellowed angrily.

            None of them could pry their frightened eyes off of the Maverick as he began to walk to the back of the hovertransport, his arms now emerging fully from the folds of his cloak, revealing the scrawny, but sinuous twigs capable of slashing reploids in half. And that's just what he did, eliminating every single reploid as he came closer and closer to the back.

            "The Maverick on the bus goes SLASH SLASH SLASH, SLASH SLASH SLASH, SLASH SLASH SLASH!!!" Fluid Ferret cackled with his heartless laugh, reveling in the feeling of the purple blood being thrown into the air and streaking his synthfur.

            And then he reached the back, where Kazok, Snaps, and Felicity all were, frozen in place by fear and another force they could not understand.

            "As for you…" He mumbled quietly, drawing his claws back in. "You shall live."

            The statement caught them off guard, chilled them worse than the thought of dying on his claws. "My Master has a different plan for you three."

            And then it sank in. This Maverick's Master…

            "Sigma…" Kazok croaked in disbelief. Fluid Ferret nodded, baring his teeth at them.

            "That's right, my little dumplings. You have been chosen to join the great revolution of our time…whether you want to or not." His clawed hand came down and rested on Felicity's shoulder. "You, I'm especially going to love enlisting into our ranks…"

            "BASTARD!" Felicity growled, straining against her paralysis. Fluid Ferret merely pulled his hand away and laughed.

            "Go ahead, fight it! You can struggle all you want and it will not help you. You belong to Sigma now, URFAWP recruit. You all do."

            And then it ended. A dark inky blackness, darker than before stretched out from Fluid's hands, engulfing them all. 

            It screamed, it moaned, it shouted. And they struggled, how they struggled…to no use.

            _Destroy._

_            Infect._

_            Survive._

            _It always begins there…At some point, the Virus takes over…that's what makes us Maverick. If not for that damnable virus, we would still be FREE!!_

_            Dash stood on an empty plain, Kazok beside her. A bitter chill wind blew by, causing her to shiver._

            "That's exactly how it happened." Kazok spat out bitterly. "We became Maverick at the whim of a madman. Not for some revolution. Because Sigma could not die, could never stop." The feraloid turned about, fresh fire burning in her eyes.

            _The bastard…Goddamn him to HELL! Dismayed, she looked down at her hands, her altered claws capable of both TitaniTefloAlloy and plasma. __Look what he turned me into…a killer, a murderer…_

_            Angrily, she jammed her right hand into the ground._

            _And I ENJOYED IT!! He warped my mind, my perception…_

            "He did the same to all of us." Kazok reminded her, kneeling down and putting an arm around her shoulder. "He stuffed us all into those capsules…let the Virus make its way through our bodies until it had taken over completely. That is why we woke up from capsules. Because we had been imprisoned there."

            The gray sky grew black then. Angry lightning struck down, a low rumble shook the earth.

            **_So what?_**

            Surprised, the two Mavericks looked up. Clouds rushed in from the horizon, too fast to be natural, too dark to be placid.

            **_How many such pathetic weaklings am I cursed to inhabit? How many undeserving vermin are blessed with the power I hold?_**

**_            Kazok stood up, shifting his left arm into a Buster and popping his gravicrystals, allowing them to slowly begin to rotate around himself. Something in how the sky rumbled, how the voice from nowhere talked, Kazok realized the danger._**

            "So YOU are the Maverick Virus…"

            **_Names are meaningless for the eternal blight. Surely, you would have realized that by now, if nothing else._**

**_You claimed us once, but you'll never do it again! Dash snapped, popping her plasma claws out and crouching into a low position, ready to pounce._**

            **_I have claimed countless ones like you, in the pursuit of The Genesis. My power is undeniable. You cannot fight me. You tried once, and you failed. You will always fail. Destroy, Infect, Survive. These are the three Directives I carry. Those are the only three thoughts you ever need think again._**

**_NEVER!!! Dash bellowed, jumping up to strike._**

            A lightning bolt sent her tumbling to the ground, her synthfur charred with the smell of ozone.

            **_Pathetic._****_ The Maverick Virus said coldly. _****_Everyone tries to face me. But all are destined to fail. This is the way of things._**

**_            It was there that Kazok turned his ashen face away from Dash's groaning form and stared at the sky._**

            "You monster…"

            The clouds began to quiver and distort, merging together as one, growing darker and darker until a solid sphere of nightshade hovered in the sea of gray above. And then it shifted, changed shape…

            Into Sigma's head. His dark burning eyes, his cocky set jaw, everything about him was the same.

            **_You shouldn't have resisted. It would make things so much easier if you would just give into me. Give into the Directives._**

**_            "If you wanted slaves, you should have BUILT THEM!!" Kazok roared, lifting his Buster up and firing a single blast of plasma._**

            But it was beyond plasma somehow, streaking hotter and angrier than mere supercharged gas. And when it struck, the cloud screamed in pain.

            And there the cloud lost its sense of humor. The low rumbling grew louder, began to shake the ground worse and worse. But Kazok stood above its effects, hovering in the air by his gravicrystals' power.

            **_Your resistance is useless, Maverick. You cannot overcome me._**

**_            "You're wrong." Kazok choked out, charging up his Buster again. "You're like any other foe…you can be ANNIHILATED!"_**

            A lightning bolt came down from above, searing its way through Kazok's body and causing him to fall into seizures. But even then, Kazok gritted his teeth and raised his Buster.

            "No…Not this time, not EVER AGAIN!!"

            **_EVERY TIME, YOU SIMPLE MINDED FOOL!! Another bolt came down, stronger than the last, that tore through two of his gravicrystals and shattered them into uselessness. And then Kazok fell to the ground._**

            But someone caught him, helped him stand on his feet again. Dash.

            _He is right…there's no way we could beat him then._

_            Distraught and still feeling the searing pain running through his body, Kazok tilted his head at her._

            "Dash, we can't give up now…Damnit, we can't let the Virus take us again!"

            She looked at him with a frown.

            _I said there was no way we could beat him THEN. But now, it is different._

            A thunderclap drew their attention, and Kazok and Dash looked up to the ominous cloud that represented the Maverick Virus above.

            It began to twist and contort again, changing and swirling until it was no longer the face of Sigma they were looking at…but the wrinkled face of an old man, with a bushy mustache and wild, unkempt hair.

            **_You still insist on fighting against the undefeatable. You're just as pathetic as any other…only Sigma and The Genesis could ever truly comprehend the power I hold._**

**_Only they were stupid enough to let a malignant force such as yourself RULE THEM OVER!! Dash shouted back. __But they are not us, we WANT OUR FREEDOM!_**

_            **Freedom to do what?**** Let the humans destroy you out of spite??**_

**_            "Spite brought about by YOUR MADNESS!" Kazok screamed. The old man in the clouds seemed to smirk at that._**

            **_Madness takes many forms…as does genius. Who's to say where the barrier exists?_**

            _You won't claim us. Not now, not ever again. Dash said dully, pulling herself and Kazok to their full heights. Calmly, she looked into his eyes. __We found each other, and we'll not lose that._

_            And then, Kazok understood. He opened his mouth once in recognition, then shut it and nodded._

            "You exist out of hatred, of spite, of all the negative emotions responsible for violence and chaos. You breed it, your very essence IS it." Kazok pointed his Buster to the heavens. "But there is one force you cannot destroy, no matter how hard you try."

            _Love…_

_            The heavens thundered again, as if the Virus grew angry at the announcement. The head of the wiry old man faded from view, being replaced by a floating mass of wires and cords that seeped darkness._

            **_You are foolish to think such things…Pah! Love, what a useless emotion. It would be better if it did not exist._**

            "But it does." Kazok said, pulling Dash close to him, one arm wrapped protectively around her waist. "That you could never destroy, you pathetic Virus. It is by that we will destroy YOU!!"

            A brilliant aura surrounded the two 'Mavericks' then, a shimmering white that caused the Virus to cringe backwards for a few moments. Dash reached her own hand behind Kazok's back, holding to him as tightly as he did to her. She looked into his eyes.

            _I love you._

_            Kazok smiled then, a pure smile. It was the truth, he knew. And she knew he felt the same._

            "For the future, then…" He turned and pointed to the roiling mass that was the Maverick Virus above. "For us…"

            _You will be destroyed._

_            The Virus hovered there for several moments, saying nothing. And then it laughed, a dark bitter laugh._

            **_Try then, little people. Try._**

            Kazok's remaining gravicrystals came back to life, pulling out and surrounding the lovers in their warm encircling embrace. At first, slowly, and then with increasing tempo, they began to rotate, amplifying the anti-gravitational field that pushed them away from the ground and into the sky. Dash popped her free hand's plasma claw, and Kazok began to charge his Buster. And in their eyes shone resolve like never before.

            Lightning flashed angrily against the horizon as the two forces met…

            Fate was being decided here today.

            The alarms still showed no signs of stopping. But that didn't matter much anymore. 

            Two more Enhanceds fell dead, gashed open by a wild swing of Willow's beam whip. She had taken point and Wycost had opted for the rear, leaving the much more mobile Bastion to hover above them and offer cover. That became a helpful position for the Desert Angel, Wycost realized. If Wycost had known his former Commander's Flight Wings were this powerful…

            All it took for Bastion to stop them cold in their tracks was a low powered blast from those wings, and the electrical discharge destroyed their EM shields and left them in seizures. Which made it far easier to move on than hoping to get lucky and somehow slash through their protective barrier by plasma alone.

            "Just how close are we getting?!" Wycost shouted over the noise of a concussion grenade he'd kicked back at the pair of Enhanceds doggedly chasing them. Willow lifted her arm up and pointed in front of them.

            "Another two hundred feet or so before we reach the R&D labs, friend."

            "We might not have that much time." Bastion growled, clenching his fists fighter around his beam sabers. 

            "And hopefully, they don't have many more fighters." Wycost noted. "They're slowing us down way too much here…BLIND!!" He shouted suddenly, hoping his reploid comrades got the message. In one swift motion, his Buster pointed straight up and exploded in brilliant light.

            The Enhanced above who had been jumping down from an air vent collapsed screaming, covering his eyes with his hands.

            "As if that'll help him." Wycost murmured. "The Strobe Flash is capable of blinding even reploids if they get too close."

            Willow turned about and fired another one of her plasmic explosives past the Bronx Bomber, letting it impact and flare up behind him. The two Enhanceds who had been creeping up on him jumped back, badly burned from the scathing encounter.

            "True, but it lacks the oomph of a simple plasmic explosion."

            "There is something to be said for finesse." Bastion said appreciatively, tilting his wings down and raining electric death all about them. 

            But there the Enhanceds stopped coming. Surprised, Wycost turned to Willow.

            "What are they doing?" Willow's burning green eyes followed one of the cloaked individuals as they turned the corner, but managed to catch the glimmer of hatred in his eyes.

            "DAMN!!" She swore, jumping ahead. But too late. Solid walls of metal came crashing down on either side of the three of them, depriving them of an escape route.

            Roaring angrily, Willow lashed her beam whip across the surface in front of her. To no avail.

            "DAMN!!" She swore again. Bastion's eyes narrowed.

            "Please don't tell me that's what I think it is…"

            "Sorry to acknowledge your fears." Wycost snapped, slamming his hand against it. "Solid TitaniTefloAlloy."

            "And just how would MI9 get their hands on this much of the stuff?!" Bastion asked, hurling a lightning bolt down at the wall by Willow and still seeing no results.

            "This is MI9 we're talking about." Willow replied bitterly. "They've had sixty years and plenty of paranoia to prepare for this kind of event." She tapped her hand against it one final time, then sighed and shut off her beam whip. "In any case lads, our weapons just became useless."

            Reluctantly, Wycost let his Buster morph back into a hand, and Bastion shut off his purple and blue blades of plasma energy. 

            "So what are we supposed to do now?" Wycost muttered. 

            As if in response, the TitaniTefloAlloy walls began to move, grinding their way along the corridor floor as they slowly decreased the space between them.

            Willow's face paled a bit.

            "Get crushed…unless you have any ideas?"

            Wycost mulled it over in his mind, then shrugged. Strangely, panic didn't enter into his mind in the slightest. Of course, more than ten years of putting his life on the line day in and out had had a fantastic effect of changing his perspective on mortality. 

            "Just how thick were these walls again?" He asked, walking from his side and over to Willow. Calmly, he put his hand against the moving wall, unfazed by the prospect of being crushed into oblivion by it. Puzzled, Bastion hovered down beside the two of them as they stared at the approaching wall.

            "About a meter, if my eyes serve me." Willow replied. "But how is that going to help us?"

            The walls kept closing in, gradually picking up speed.

            Doan made one statement to himself about the 'Enhanced' humans they were encountering. Lots of power, loads of speed, and that shield that did a fair job of making sure they could kill reploids just as easily as it went the other way. 

            Still, their attack strategy was utterly useless. Against somebody who had been fighting for years, not to simply destroy, but to protect his own life…

            At that point, experience didn't enter into it. Fate did.

            As crowded as they were in the hallway, the MI9 operatives had limited their ability to take action against Allegro and himself. Severely limited themselves.

            "BLAST YOU!!" One of the MI9 agents cried out, trying to draw nearer to Doan.

            He was thrown back in flames moments later as Doan lifted his right arm and fired off a horrendous blast of fire.

            "No, I think it's more along the lines of blast you." Doan said humorlessly. His beam lance struck out again, impaling itself through the chest of another unwary foe. Allegro was content to simply stand guard and threaten off whatever fool tried to get through.

            The attack had taken longer than Doan had hoped…but not getting the crap beat out of him was always more important than speed.

            The last MI9 Enhanced suffered only a grazing blow along his arm. There, Doan stopped and pointed.

            "Run." He ordered with a rough growl. 

            Dismayed, the MI9 operative looked around, looked down on the bleeding and charred and sliced bodies of his former comrades. Disbelief shone in his eyes as he looked back up at Doan, and a hint of pain and grief. Doan simply stared back with his emotionless eyes.

            "I'll get you…" The operative whispered bitterly. Doan rolled his eyes.

            "You can try."

            The Enhanced vanished in a line of warp fire, allowing Doan and Allegro to at last breathe easy. But there, Doan turned and frowned at his ally.

            "From now on, I'M leading." Allegro shrugged weakly and tried to smile. 

            Once they got their bearings straight and made their way back to the fork Allegro had wrongly judged, Doan turned them down the left path with far greater success. He knew he'd done right once they found a door at the end of the hallway marked 'power control room'.

            "See?" Doan asked, hovering slightly in the air and pointing at the door's label. "This isn't rocket science, Allegro. This is just learning how to read a map."

            "Yeah, maybe from now on I'll have YOU do the leading." Allegro joked with a sheepish grin. "Or not. Remember, you asked me which way we were going."

            "That was my first mistake." Doan admitted drily. "But the mistakes end here."

            The door to the power generator control room was literally blown off of its hinges by Doan's plasma supershot, falling inwards and collapsing to the ground with a resounding clang of metal against concrete. Doan and Allegro were inside before the smoke had even cleared, and Doan's Buster was raised and primed to fire at whoever got too close.

            Only two figures stood inside, both on their feet and staring back at the intruders. One was a more elderly gentleman with flowing white hair, and the other was a young man with curly brown. Both of them wore white laboratory smocks…They weren't fighters, they were 'Techs.

            "Hmm? Now what's the meaning of all this then?" The old one finally spoke up, putting his hands into his laboratory pocket and staring at Doan and Allegro as if being infiltrated by reploids was an almost common occurrence. The young one also adopted a look of indignation.

            Narrowing his eyes a bit, Doan walked towards them, keeping his Buster raised. Still, the two made no signs of being frightened or intimidated in the least. 

            "We're just visiting." Doan muttered back, filling the dead airspace with an erroneous statement. The younger human rolled his eyes.

            "Look, you missed the tour group. They already came through here today." He cleared his throat. "Just admit it. You came here to tear this place up, right?"

            "Boy, isn't he astute?" Allegro murmured, igniting his beam staff. "So what did we need to do again?"

            "Set the place to blow." Doan answered back, still not turning his eyes off of the two. Their general state of relaxation did little to ease the nagging in the back of his head.

            After Allegro's comment, the glare in the human's eyes darkened.

            "I'm afraid we can't let you do that, fellows." The old one spoke up again. "We sort of like our base here, and we don't exactly enjoy the concept of having it blow sky high."

            "So what would you do to stop us? Are you two Enhanced humans?" Doan asked back perfunctorily.

            The younger one shrugged, a cruel grin filling his cheeks.

            "No. Just very intelligent scientists."

            Doan's unease grew several times worse then.

            He grew afraid…afraid enough that the presence of the two scientists made him press his back against the wall. Allegro too found himself scrunched against the wall with his weapon in front of him, shaking from the terror.

            Calmly, the older one removed two objects from his coat's pockets, a perfect pair of whatever they were. 

            "Hmm, I knew that keeping these things around would prove to come in handy someday. Leave it to a Berserker Beacon to stop them."

            "I guess that means no sabotage today, eh?" The younger one quipped with a toothy smile. "Still, we can't just leave them here."

            "Oh, I wholeheartedly agree that they need to be dealt with." The old man nodded wisely. "Say, didn't you have that new invention you wanted to try out?"

            "Yes…That would work quite well here." The young man grinned, tapping his fingertips together.

            At the mercy of two sick and twisted scientists, and frozen in place by an irrational fear caused by the brilliant mind of Bristol, Doan and Allegro suddenly felt very helpless indeed.

            Fannir sat at the table, barely focusing on anything. He'd been kept awake by their serum, which at the same time somehow managed to drain his body of all his immense strength. Days now, maybe weeks…

            Jowers sat across the table from him, hidden from sight by the blinding halogen that shone in Fannir's ragged face.

            "You can't keep this up forever, Fannir…" He said flatly. "At some point, you will break. Or you will go insane."

            "Then I'll go insane." Fannir answered quietly. "At least then you'll kill me…"

            "You do know there's a reason we kept you alive, right?" The Enhanced human asked gently. "If there hadn't been, you would be little more than scrap by now."

            "You killed them all…" Fannir stuttered weakly. He turned his head up, to reveal the deep gash in his cheek that let a flap of synthskin dangle loose to reveal the metal skull underneath. His hair was tangled and mussed, his eyes dull. "You even destroyed Tarkin, and he wasn't even a reploid…"

            "You reploids are a danger to humanity and to this planet." Jowers stated, a low growl slipping into his voice. "The Final Weapon has shown us that. And as far as Tarkin went, his mind was tainted. He, above all others in MI9 had spent the most time in close contact with your kind. He had grown attached to you all, he had begun to blur the lines between reploid and human. He would have defended you, would have betrayed us for his sick twisted beliefs."

            "Humanity is interesting, you know?" Fannir croaked, looking at Jowers with a brighter gleam in his eye. "You nearly caused your own destruction…not just in the Wars of 2040, but countless times before. Your very nature is to breed violence. You live for it, your psyche feeds off of it. Mistrust, hatred, scorn, bitterness, and undying ethnocentrism…those are the defining characteristics of humanity." He laughed a little at that, then tilted his head back to lessen the blinding light shining in his face. "We're a danger to humanity? We're a danger to this planet? It was not by our hand that the planet was nuked almost to death in the Wars of 2040. It was not by our hand that three quarters of the world's population died, whether it was instantly or just by the sickness and ravages of a decade of strife. Whether you like it or not, the simple truth behind it all Jowers, is that it has ALWAYS been humans who have caused the pain of this world. Even the Robot Rebellions of the late 21st Century were controlled by the HUMAN madman, Wily."

            "And recently?" Jowers asked icily. "What of Sigma? Of the Mavericks? What of their Virus? Those are not human inventions. Those were made by your kind."

            "So what?" Fannir shot back. "When humanity had its despots, they turned to their own devices to fight them off. Just as the Maverick Hunters do now…they quell the threat of their own kind. So why should humanity interfere with that, why should MI9 hold this belief it is THEIR right to destroy reploids?"

            Jowers seemed to smirk for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

            "So, you're playing the equality card along with the morality card?" The Enhanced human smirked louder this time. "Nothing you say matters, Fannir."

            "You're wrong." Fannir echoed back. He looked through the blinding light, aiming his head at the voice. "We reploids may not be human, but…we do matter. We have thoughts, we have emotions, we have opinions. You made us this way."

            "And because we made you, we can un-make you." Jowers said harshly. 

            The light began to flicker again, and Fannir was too weak to resist it. It flashed in morse, a language Fannir knew by heart. It repeated itself, over and over again. A dull, simple message that could not be ignored.

            _All reploids must die. All reploids must die._

_            "If your kind continues on, Fannir, this world will feel nothing but more pain and suffering than it already has." Jowers said calmly, consolingly. "Our people were able to reverse the damage, save the planet from our wrath. We have learned from it, we will never do it again…but if your race should ever try it, the world will be changed. It will be beyond recovery."_

            _All reploids must die. All reploids must die._

_            "If we all must perish for the good of this planet…then why am I alive??" Fannir uttered hollowly._

            "Your purpose is not yet done. There is still good you can perform to redeem yourself before your death, acts of atonement for your kind's ways."

            _All reploids must die. All reploids must die._

            "N…no…" Fannir groaned, still fighting it. "Reploids are not easily destroyed…someone will stop this…"

            "Who? Bristol?" Jowers scoffed. "You had feelings for her. You still do. You have been tainted by her poison. Bristol said she was constructing the Berserker Beacon to do away with Mavericks…when all along, she was planning a far less altruistic motive."

            _All reploids must die. All reploids must die._

_            "No…" Fannir croaked, feeling his heart break. "Not Bristol…she was different, she was…"_

            The message changed, flashing a new set of signals.

            _Bristol__ is death. __Bristol__ is pain. __Bristol__ is suffering._

_            "Bristol was the worst amongst us. She would turn on us all for her own sick goals." Jowers continued, matching his droning voice to the repetitive message. "Your feelings for her are a sign of weakness…she is the enemy now, Fannir. She is your enemy. She is humanity's enemy. She has escaped us, and she is out there. Perhaps with the Mavericks now, or perhaps she somehow found a way to survive on her own. Her and Willow, her treacherous Irish dog of a friend."_

            _Love is false. Lust is weakness._

_            "You must turn away from this, Fannir." The Enhanced human said, standing up and pulling the light closer to Fannir's face. The reploid trembled, but made no effort to shut his eyes or even blink them._

            _Love is false. Lust is weakness._

_            "I must…turn away from it." Fannir finally echoed back. Hidden by the shadows, Jowers smiled._

            "You hate Bristol. You hate what she's done, what she will do."

            "I hate…I hate…" Fannir began, but then slipped into a loop, a part of his psyche still unwilling to make the connection.

            Jowers frowned, blasted more power and light through the morse halogen lamp on the desk.

            _You hate __Bristol__. You hate reploids. They must be exterminated for the planet's own good._

_            "What do you hate, Fannir?" Jowers asked. Still, Fannir struggled with it, choked sobs catching in his throat._

            "Cannot, I cannot…"

            Jowers pounded the luminescence up fifty notches, bordering on blinding Fannir with the message.

            _Reploids__ must all be exterminated._

_            "WHAT DO YOU HATE, FANNIR?!" Jowers repeated angrily._

            Fannir's body fell limp, the tension vanished from it. Fatigue and weariness had at last claimed him, laid his psyche bare to be warped and twisted by MI9.

            "I hate…"

            Fannir's head drooped down.

            "I hate Bristol. I hate reploids."

            "And…"

            "I hate…myself…" 

            The lamp turned off at long last, letting nightshade claim the room. 

            And in the darkness, Jowers smiled.

            "Bristol?" Fannir called out quietly. He got no response. "Bristol?" He asked, louder this time. Bristol made no sound, too frozen in fear to even do that much. 

            Clucking to himself, the reploid clicked the Berserker Beacon off, freeing her from the overwhelming fear. Her body went limp from exhaustion, and she finally began to release the choked sobs she'd been saving.

            "The Universal Berserker Frequency, Bristol. Give me the UBF."

            "Fannir…Don't you realize what MI9 would do with that…With the UBF, any reploid can be affected by the Berserker Beacon…there would be no dial-in time, you could affect whole groups…"

            "So?" Fannir asked. He put a hand to his hip and glared at her again. "I know that, and so do my superiors. We're COUNTING on it." 

            Bristol's eyes held no barrier against the betrayal, the utter exhaustion in her eyes then.

            "You're not Fannir…you can't be, he'd never let MI9 get away with the slow destruction of our kind…"

            The reploid in the lab coat shrugged for a moment.

            "It all depends on which Fannir you're talking about." He uttered then. "Do you mean the deluded Fannir that you worked with, the one who held his heart out to you, only to have it be denied?" His face grew more ashen. "Or do you mean the Fannir standing before you, the one who has seen the truth?"

            "What truth…" Bristol sobbed bitterly.

            "That our kind is useless. That it would destroy this Earth. That humans were wrong in making us…and now that mistake must be corrected." Fannir replied easily. He clenched his fist tight. "Even I must perish…for the good of all, this is what must be." He turned to Bristol, still lying helpless on the table, freed of the Berserker Beacon's effects. "Three, two, one…"

            Bristol convulsed again as Fannir's torturous serum triggered her shock once more. It grew harder and harder every time to recover from…

            "MI9 was created from the ashes of the corrupt Second Rainbow." Fannir continued. "Freed from the twisted minds of Light and Wily, MI9 continued on, making its own slow progress. Until now…until now, at long last, it has found a reason for its call to arms. Our destruction, the salvation of the planet…" Fannir giggled a bit, which then slipped into insane laughter until he stopped himself abruptly, sobered as if he'd been slapped across the face.

            "The UBF is the keystone to it all…Ice Beacon cannot function without it." He mumbled silently. "And only you, the creator of the Berserker technology, knows it."

            Bristol was out of energy, out of resolve, and without hope then. But her mind, her rational thinking mind was still at full capacity. Perhaps it was made stronger by her nightmares pulled to real life, but she heard his words, and took them at full value.

            "Ice Beacon…" She whispered. "Is it truly that powerful…does it have the strength to destroy all reploids??"

            Fannir smirked at that.

            "It will…once you realize you cannot fight against it, that death is inevitable, and give us the UBF." He tapped a finger against his chin and chuckled. "Hmm, perhaps you're expecting me to act the part of the typical villain…I expose the grand plan to you in its entireity, down to the smallest detail." He stepped closer and giggled again. "And then, if I were to continue on, I might place you in an overly elaborate and easily escapable situation while I went off to do other things and hope it all went according to plan?" He snapped his fingers, the joviality vanishing again. "But I'm afraid this isn't the fairytale world you want it to be. I won't reveal Ice Beacon's nature, or its location to you. So you're plum out of luck on that count. I've told you too much as it is…of course, considering your surroundings, it seemed of little concern to let that little bit slide." 

            Fannir took a step towards Bristol, setting one hand down on her bare leg.

            "So once more, I'll ask you for the UBF. And you should know by now, the more you refuse to give it to me…the longer you'll suffer." He folded his fingers together and shut his eyes. "How many times has that serum seared your blood? Ten? Twenty? More? Do numbers even make sense to you?" Fannir sighed. "The Berserker Beacon is no longer needed. As you are now…you'll break. Oh, you'll break."

            "And if I don't?" Bristol asked, in a quiet voice that cracked as if she already had.

            Fannir smiled at that, reached down underneath Bristol and removed a glass test tube from the table's lower drawers. 

            He held it in his hand, staring at it for more than a minute before finally drawing his hand tight around it. The glass gave way, breaking apart in one earsplitting shriek before becoming tiny bits of crushed glass and sharp shards that dug into his synthflesh and clattered to the ground.

            "If you don't…" Fannir mused, looking at the embedded bits of silicate in his paw, "Then you shall shatter."

            The final crystals had been shattered in less time than it took a normal phone ring to complete one cycle. X and Zero had found themselves staring down only one of each other after three shots…both had had the good grace to dash to the side a bit and avoid the errant plasma bullets that had been left to fly onwards and sink into the walls, some of which now began to glow with a mysterious light.

            Zero lifted his Buster and fired a semi-charged shot, relying on instinct honed by years of fighting to see him through. X narrowed his eyes a bit, easily clearing the shot by a dash jump. A flurry of shots echoed back towards Zero, but somehow the Crimson Hunter managed to dodge them all.

            Zero stood back up, letting his blond lock of hair fall back to rest behind him. He turned to X and shrugged.

            "Well? Did you manage to singe me, at least?" X shook his head, his blue green eyes clear with purpose. 

            "I still plan on trying a few more tricks, friend." 

            Zero laughed, holding his Buster aloft. "Well, try all you like. It won't do you any good."

            "Trying to goad me?" X pressed with a tight-lipped grin. He lifted his Buster up and clucked his tongue. "Please…Haven't you learned anything about the way I fight?"

            "Lousily, if I can recall." Zero said, shutting his eyes for the briefest of moments. He looked back up. "As a matter of fact, the only times you ever truly excelled were in cases…"

            "Where it was life or death, and not practice." X finished, releasing his shot. Zero's eyes widened, and he ducked the blast with practiced ease. Smirking, he stood back up and pointed his own Buster back. 

            "Oh, please…that had no chance of hitting me!" Zero mocked. 

            The Blue Bomber of 21XX folded his arms and smiled back easily.

            "Maybe the followup will." 

            It took Zero a moment to realize X had an ace up his sleeve. And even then, just what form that ace was didn't sink in for a while longer. 

            "Oh, Shi…" Zero began, swiveling about with widened eyes.

            Sure enough, the Energen wall of the shaft directly behind Zero were now flickering from blue to purple and green and back again, roiling with a low hum that completely overpowered the wind's moan. That was all he could do before the wall exploded, releasing the pent up fury of the plasma it had been forced to store.

            Zero was flung back away from the explosion, his armor badly scorched by the blow and his gloved hands showing undeniable damage. That came from his choice to cover his face from the force of the blast…a wise choice in the end.

            When the noise finished echoing about, Zero picked himself up from the ground, hurt from the blast, but still more upset than wounded. X stood there, Buster hung down by his waist and a triumphant grin plastered across his mug.

            "Nice shot…" Zero wheezed. "I forgot about that trick…"

            "Even though I lack the G-Crush to make the blast really count, this simple X-Buster can do a lot." X observed drily. He looked about the room and shrugged. "Something else that makes you and I different, Zero…you see the opponent, you go after the opponent. You learn their moves, you begin to predict them. But I also see the terrain, the environment. More than one Maverick's fallen before me simply because I saw a weakness I could exploit."

            "Once more, nice shot." Zero rasped, pulling himself up to his full height. He looked at his scorched hands, then bit his teeth together in an angry stare. "So what do you say we take it up a few notches?"

            X blinked a few times in disbelief, then let the shock fade as determination took over.

            "I see…we're going to go all out this time, aren't we?"

            "The Mavericks will show no mercy to you, X." Zero replied, reaching behind him and pulling his silver beam saber cylinder casing to bear in both hands. "If I don't try every trick in my arsenal to see how you respond with your basic armor, then I'm only setting you up for worse defeat at their claws."

            The green blade of plasma energy erupted forth with a hiss, filling the cavern with its dull glow. In the light, Zero's face took on a frightening quality, one that made X cringe as he recalled his friend as he was in his Maverick phase, a little more than one year ago…

            "Try then." X announced, cocking his Buster and letting the whine fill the room.

            The whine of a Buster, the thrum of a beam saber, and a low howling wind that gusted through to make its presence known once more.

            And then the two titans clashed.

            The MHHQ was by all accounts, your atypical structure with atypical people. While very few humans ever bothered to show up and visit the grand structure, reploids of all shapes and sizes felt right at home surrounded by their kind.

            Some reploids wore armor. Some didn't, and walked around in street clothes. Of course, it was tougher to wear street clothes for the bulkier animalian reploids whose armor was a permanent part of their construction. Some reploids looked as if they'd hopped off a cartoonist's design page, moving about without legs, but by repulsors. Some didn't even have human hands.

            Despite all the differences between them, they got along. There was a unity among the reploids of the MHHQ, be they humanoid, feraloid, or whatever design they were that went beyond anywhere else in the world. A unity in their purpose and pride.

            J.K. Horn clucked his tongue as he walked along, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his white laboratory coat and the other dangling loosely at his side. He kept his blue blockers over his eyes, figuring that a gray haired, elderly looking individual attracted enough attention without an eerie robotic eye gleaming from one side of his face. With the rest of his motley pack gone off to rescue Bristol from the dark hands of MI9, the brilliant engineer had nothing else to do.

            Over the dull murmur that pervaded the circular hallways, Horn somehow found his way to a familiar door in the complex.

            "Hello…Medical Bay." He said gently, folding his arms and tapping an elbow a few times. "Wonder if whassisface is still here…" Taking no further time for his self musings, the creator of the now defunct URFAWP slid inside the hissing hydraulic doors.

            The Medical Bay was amazingly empty for a change, save for one figure sprawled facedown on one of the medical cots, looking for all the world like he was dead. Horn frowned for a moment, but relaxed the tension in his face once he spotted the messy clump of frazzled white and gray hair on the head.

            "Yup, that's him…" Horn grunted appreciatively, wandering over and tapping the individual on the shoulder.

            The response he got was classic. A sudden snorted grunt of dismay, a mumbled 'whuzzah?', and a knee-jerk reflex that sent the medical reploid toppling to the floor headfirst. Horn primly backed up and tucked his hands into his pocket, then cleared his throat.

            "Good morning, Hazil." 

            The medical reploid weakly pulled his hand up in the air and extended his middle finger, then let his hand drop back to the ground. Horn smirked. "Chatty as ever, I see."

            "I was stone drunk and liking it, all right?" Hazil groused, finally moving to pull himself off of the floor. When he'd climbed back onto his feet and stood up to his full height, he ended up almost becoming an exact replica of the URFAWP creator. Except of course, for the face that Horn wore sunglasses and had an eerily robot eye, and Hazil had nothing but a scar along the side of his face. "And if you tell me good morning again, I'll hurt you. It's eight at night and I was hoping to get some sleep for a change, instead of sucking down nightmares."

            Horn furrowed his brow, a motion Hazil detected even with the reploid's sunglasses standing in the way.

            "Have things been that wrong here…"

            "Things just haven't improved since Cain died, that's for sure." Hazil answered back, hopping up onto the medical cot behind him and releasing a sigh. "We're having to paddle up shit creek with a leaky kayak, to use a colorful analogy."

            "Wycost told me as much." Horn confirmed. Hazil lifted an eyebrow at that.

            "Wycost?? I haven't seen that rustic sonofagun since he left after Sigma's Sixth. What's he been up to these days?"

            "Trailing Bristol." Horn coughed, shaking his head grimly. "But things have just taken a very rotten turn for the worse…Do you ever recall Bastion being put near death not long ago?"

            "Yeah, sure." Hazil said easily. "That was back before Sigma's Sixth, a little after Bristol showed up. Somebody had meant to kill him then…and they almost succeeded. But something pulled him out of that coma."

            Horn pursed his lips, then shook his head.

            "I don't know if I should tell you any more." Hazil put on an incredulous look.

            "Look, I've seen a Hell of a lot of things in my day. And as of right now, between Signas and X losing his armor sets, things back here are the worst they've ever been. So nothing you have to say is going to upset me." Hazil held his arms out, as if beckoning Horn to shoot him. "So go ahead. Give me your best shot."

            Horn stared up at the ceiling for a while, then directed his gaze down to stare at the flatscreen monitor on the wall behind Hazil, blinking with unknown statistics.

            "Well, so be it." Horn took a breath before continuing. "Bristol was created and hails from a splinter faction of the 21st Century organization, The Second Rainbow, known as MI9. After the Final Weapon during the Fourth Maverick Uprising, MI9 decided that it was not only Mavericks, but all reploids that posed a danger, seeing that, in effect, Repliforce's soldiers were Mavericks uninfected by the Virus. Thus, it was Bristol and a coworker of hers by the name of Willow that made a no-holds barred escape from MI9 and were then trailed by MI9's agents throughout the world until they ended up in New Denver…at the same time as the Maverick attack there that Bastion and Zero's 'joint Unit' had to face. Willow and Bristol used a small version of the neural eraser Bristol had come up with, the memory wiper, to eliminate every last one of their memories from their conscious minds. And that's the condition Bastion found Bristol in. Somehow, Willow crawled off and recovered her memories in time to become re-involved in Wycost's affairs during his trek."

            Horn shifted about a bit and continued. "During her stead at MI9, Bristol worked in the R&D Department…can't say I'm all that surprised, considering how much genius went into even the rough design schematics of Bastion's Angel's Advantage flight wings. She created bio-implants that gave rise to 'Enhanced' humans…who are, for all purposes, on par with reploids in speed, strength, stamina, and intelligence. And aside from the aforementioned memory wiper…she also made a little device known as the Berserker Beacon. Somehow, it allows MI9's field agents, these Enhanced humans, to track down reploids and instill in them undeniable, irrational fear. From what I overheard, it was that device that was used on a reploid by the name of Canark in the incident that almost saw Bastion be killed. Slowly but surely, MI9 has been spreading its arms out in all directions, eliminating reploids with cold hearted precision as they went. And somehow, they found Bristol and captured her, brought her back to MI9's HQ for some odd reason. Why they didn't kill her, I don't know…but now, Doan, Bastion, Willow, Wycost, and Allegro are all knee deep in trouble trying to pull Bristol from the fire. The toughest part about all of it…is that these are humans they're having to deal with. It is humans they've been forced to fight."

            Horn finished with great candor, keeping that placid expression glued onto his face. Unfortunately, it did little to help Hazil, who looked ahead blankly and blinked a few hundred times before clearing his throat.

            "You're not making this up?" The medical reploid asked weakly. Horn quietly shook his head. "Then you've just done what I thought nobody could do." Hazil acquiesced. "You've overwhelmed me."

            "Yes." Horn mused, putting on an out of place smile. "I thought that might do the trick." Horn moved away a bit and gave the medical reploid a chance to collect his thoughts. It took a few more moments, but eventually Hazil shook his head.

            "Just…who all knows about this?"

            "Aside from us?" Horn inferred. He shrugged his shoulders. "Just the people in it. MI9 has done a fantastic job of keeping itself hidden. Why do you ask?"

            "HELL, Horn!" Hazil snuffed. "Don't you realize the implications in all this? We have HUMANS killing REPLOIDS. And not out of self-defense, but sheer misplaced malevolence…these guys sound as bad as Sigma!"

            "So Willow told us." Horn agreed, pulling his sunglasses up into his hair so Hazil could see his narrowed squint. "And I know they're bad. I've seen them. Their eyes are cold, dark…without spirit. They kill with no mercy, no hesitation. To them, reploids are nothing but insects to be squashed underfoot."

            "Just where did you bump into them?" Hazil asked. 

            "Remember my island getaway?" Horn shot back. Hazil nodded uncertainly. "Well, it's no longer there. We had to blow it up before they showed up again."

            "Well, shit…" Hazil grumbled. "Anything else these guys are capable of? Next you'll tell me they can use warp transport…"

            The medical reploid stopped short when Horn nodded an affirmative. "Goddamnit." Hazil mumbled putting his face into his hands. 

            "Bristol again." Horn confirmed with a sigh. "She is by all accounts, a very brilliant engineer. It just happened the things she came up with would one day all be turned against her."

            Hazil rocked back and forth for a few more moments on the cot, then looked at Horn with quiet, defeated eyes.

            "Do you know how long I've been at the MHHQ?" Horn shook his head, clueless. "More than thirteen years now. I came here when they were still building this place in the early months of 2118. Back then, it started off simple enough."

            Hazil got up and walked over to his desk, taking a moment to sprinkle some fish food into Sigma II's bowl.

            "The Maverick Hunters were put into action by order of the GDC. Their goal was to stop aberrant reploids, Mavericks if you will, from causing harm to humans." Hazil reached down to his desk and opened up a drawer, shuffling around in it for a while before his hand pulled out an old photograph. Silently, he handed it to J.K. Horn, who accepted it with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

            There was Hazil in the picture, no doubt about it…of course, back whenever this was taken, the medical reploid had had a tread base, much like Johnny 5 from the old 'Short Circuit' movie series of the late 20th Century. And there were two others in the photograph. A proud eagle looking reploid with a curved smile along his beak, and a massive apelike monstrosity with a pasted grin. The three of them were all grinning like idiots and doing their best to make the kodak moment a ridiculous one.

            "Back then, we started with only one team of Maverick Hunters. Sure, we planned to get more, but as far as a fully functional team went…" Hazil's voice trailed off.

            Horn turned the photograph around and pointed at it. 

            "Who are these two?" Hazil smiled sadly.

            "I'm surprised you don't remember them…those are two of the Maverick Generals from the First Maverick Uprising. Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill." Horn lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Don't look so stunned, Horn." Hazil shrugged, losing what little humor he had in his tone before. "Back before those guys were Mavericks, they were Maverick Hunters. That's what made the First Uprising so tough for us…because then we were fighting our brothers."

            Hazil sat down in front of his desk and kicked a leg up onto the pile of paperwork there. "Spark Mandrill and Storm Eagle and I all came from the RAF over in England. Spark was an engineer, and Storm was a warrior. And I…Hell, I was a field medic." He waved a finger in the air. "At one time or another, we all had lives. And then we gave them up."

            "There were nine of them then. Sigma was their leader…Storm, Spark, Arm, Chill, Flame, Boomer, Sting, Launch…" Hazil rattled off. "Those guys could do anything. There was a sense of unity about them unparalleled. No matter what the odds, they always came out on top. Always."

            "And then they went Maverick." Horn finished. Hazil nodded, staring at the ceiling.

            "They all went Maverick. By then, they'd gotten two new members to the team. Vile, and that crazy purple mutt of Sigma's we called Velguarder."

            "A dog??"

            "A robotic dog." Hazil corrected. "Sigma just sorta picked him up offa the street…poor thing must have gone through Hell and back. I remember hearing from some of the others how the pooch wasn't always 'there' all the time…like his mind was somewhere else half the time. He was aggressive towards X…and he attacked Zero."

            "Really?" Horn queried, lifting an eyebrow again. Hazil nodded.

            "Yup…After that, the mutt wasn't allowed to roam the halls on his own. He had to stay cooped up in Sigma's room if he wasn't on a mission. It was a tough lot, and I don't think it helped him any."

            "Why would Sigma choose a scraggly robotic dog off of the streets as a part of his team?" 

            Hazil shrugged. "Sigma…the Sigma we knew before he went Maverick…wasn't the most emotional person you could know. Most of the time, stoic was his basic mode. But he could tell where loyalty lay, and he knew strong fighters when he saw them. I guess Sigma saw that Velguarder had the potential to be a warrior…like he was born to cause destruction, or something." The medical reploid shrugged again. "But now I'm just jumping off into tangents…" He looked up at Horn again. "The point I'm trying to get at is that I've been stuck in this building for the last thirteen and some odd years of my life. And in all that time, I've never once left the MHHQ. Not once have I ever stepped outside. There's always been idiots to reconstruct, things to build, Heart Tanks and Sub-Tanks to prep for the gung-ho Hunters."

            Hazil got back up and walked further along into his office, going towards an unused coatrack that had seen more wear by unuse than use. In one swift motion, he took off the mottled lab coat and swung on a dark brown leather jacket. Hazil stood there for a few moments, looking at himself and stretching his arms out.

            "Huh…" He finally muttered. He looked up at Horn, eyes still worn down. "The last time I wore this was when I first came here. After that…I just put on the doctor suit and never had a chance to look back."

            "So you're going to go out?" Horn ventured. Hazil shrugged, ruffling his hair.

            "I'm more or less thinking about retiring."

            "What?"

            "Retiring." Hazil said firmly. "Thirteen years of my life I've spent cooped up in here, having to deal with wetnosed idiots and piles of paperwork and the pain of having somebody's life slipping through my fingers, always wondering if there was something more I could have done…" Sadly, the medical reploid shook his head. "I'm sick and tired of it. In the end, the only reason I stuck around as long as I have was for X and Zero and Cain. And now Cain's dead, which just leaves those two."

            "I see." Horn replied. He folded his arms. "Well, if you're thinking of going out, mind if I tag along?"

            "I'm going for sake. You buying?" Hazil asked hopefully. 

            Horn smiled gently.

            "Sure."

            Heaven and Earth rumbled and shook from the force of the battle being fought between the Maverick Virus and the two souls desperate enough to fight it. Lightning tore down from all parts of the sky, desperately trying to destroy the miniscule figures charging at it.

            Against the gray, moaning sky, Kazok held tightly to Dash as he swerved them clear of another bolt of thunder. The feraloid gritted her teeth for a moment, then brought her plasma claw about and gave it a wild swing. Defying all logic, a sharp thin blade of energy crashed from her throw, arcing up and slicing off three of the Virus creature's limbs. It screamed in protest, and the limb collapsed into dust before their eyes.

            **_DAMN YOU!!! The Virus cried out angrily, charging towards them. Kazok shook his head and maneuvered to the side by thought alone, Dash held tight to his side. A supershot into the lumbering Virus's backside sent it sprawling again, and Kazok retracted his Buster._**

            "We're winning…we're going to win!!" Kazok cheered. Dash's face seemed to brighten at that, but it soon sobered as the lumbering mass in front of them began to laugh darkly.

            It turned about and flashed again, morphing back into Sigma's face.

            **_Fools._****_ It spat out. _****_You just don't realize how truly powerful I am…everything to this point has been child's play for me. _**

            _So why then are we DESTROYING YOU??" Dash pressed, hurling down another blade without mercy._

            Only this time, the face of Sigma didn't get hit by it. The black mask shifted and quivered in the air, opening a hole in the middle of its mass that let the shot go through without causing harm.

            **_My destruction is no longer the issue here. The Virus announced darkly._**

            The lightning came faster now, raining down from all directions and providing no escape. Kazok and Dash were caught in the crossfire of two bolts, their bodies tensing up and falling into seizures from the attack. A low clenched scream came from Kazok then as he lost control of his gravicrystals, the pain so intense he lost his focus on them.

            Gravity claimed the two fighters once more as the gravicrystals drew themselves around Kazok's waist and powered down. But even then the black lightning came down in the Virus's wrath, crashing through them and splitting them apart so they slammed into the hard ground separated from each other.

            Dash let out a choked cry of dismay as the wind was knocked out of her. Kazok only managed a grunt as stars flashed before his eyes.

            **_Your pathetic excuse of rebellion ends here, worms. The Virus announced darkly. _****_Nobody can resist me. I am the most perfect, most overwhelming force in the world. Even Sigma bends to my will._**

**_            Trembling, Kazok pushed against the ground with his left hand and stared up above him, to the blackness that had reverted to nothing more than a dark cloud. Pain and anger mixed in his eyes, still shining with so much purpose._**

            "You can't always win…We'll defeat you!"

            **_I defeated you once already…the second time will be no different. The Virus barked._**

            "Kazok…" Dash coughed, weakly lifting her head up as well. The Maverick leader looked over to the feraloid, the fatigue in her eyes mirroring his own. More than anything, more than his own life, he wanted to protect her from this…this thing. She'd eked out only one word, but had said volumes.

            The two fighters were two feet apart, and as the Virus began to swirl and rotate in the air into the shape of a hurricane, their damaged arms stretched out and tried to clasp hands.

            **_DESTROY. INFECT. SURVIVE. DESTROY. INFECT. SURVIVE._**

**_            The sudden drone of the Virus's three Directives came upon them like an anvil. With sudden undeniable weight and power, it tried to quash their own thoughts, their own feelings with that emotionless, overwhelming set of Directives._**

            The two warriors wanted to scream, they wanted to somehow counteract the poisonous drone that engulfed them both and pushed them almost to the point of insanity. Even if they were screaming, it didn't help them.

            **_DESTROY. INFECT. SURVIVE._**

            Those were the only things that pulsed through their minds then. The full unbridled power of the Maverick Virus was unleashed upon them, its droning message the same one that had caused thousands before to simply give in, if only to silence the message, to make the Virus cease its attack. Many had sacrificed their consciousness, allowed the Virus to transform them…the power was that intense.

            Nothing they could do could blot out the Virus's dark presence, its imposing message. Nothing on their own…

            But there was one force that compelled them to continue to fight, even though it looked utterly hopeless. And that was their feelings for one another.

            Even in the grip of darkness, the two reached for each other, their hands stretching out until they finally reached each other and held tightly.

            And then it was as if sunlight came through and destroyed the clouds then. The Virus's drone was cancelled as their fingers intertwined, and the two warriors blinked a few times before they realized what had happened.

            "Dash…" Kazok croaked, blinking a few times to clear his still blurry vision. The feraloid looked back and seemed to smile, baring her teeth.

            "It's us, Kazok…as long as we have each other, there's nothing the Virus can do…" Realization dawned on the Maverick leader, and he smiled back, a pure smile of ecstatic joy.

            The two got up, turned to face the sky and the amorphous mass of the Maverick Virus still hovering there. The Virus quieted its message, stunned at the results.

            **_Impossible…you can't still be sane after that!!_**

**_            "You underestimated us." Kazok announced, holding tightly to Dash's hand as he pointed with his other. "We won't be claimed again…we'll never be slaves to you, or Sigma!!"_**

            **_If you will not become a Maverick once more…Then you shall PERISH!!_**

**_            The Maverick Virus shifted and reformed into the head of the old man with the wild hair atop his head, glaring down on them with utter revulsion. _**

            Kazok popped his gravicrystals again, using them to surround both himself and Dash within the antigravitational field. Dash primed her free hand's saber claw, and Kazok readied his Buster. Only this time, there was something more. An aura of brilliant white shone around the two, contrasting starkly with the endless darkness that the Virus possessed. Like wispy fog, it hung low around them under its own direction and will.

            A final crackling lightning bolt shot down, larger than any other and struck at the two. It didn't come from the sky above, but directly from the Virus. Where it struck, it spread, showering in all directions with endless nightshade.

            **_Now you shall DIE!!_**

**_            But to the Virus's complete stupefaction, they didn't._**

            Slowly but surely, a beam of white pushed back against the dark lightning, casting it off in all directions as if it were rain pelting against an umbrella.

            Behind it, Dash and Kazok both roared in one triumphant cry, Buster supershot and thrown saber claw blade combined to form the brilliant blast that neutralized the Virus's darkness.

            The Virus could do nothing to stop it, it had no way to escape it. The head of the old man tilted back and screamed at the fates as the beam crept up, overwhelmed his own attack, and then ate away at him…

            And then there was nothing left. The blackness disintegrated into dust, and the dust vanished into the wind. Exhausted, Dash and Kazok collapsed backwards. But never once did they let go of each other's hands, even as the clouds above cleared to reveal a sky blue canvas above them.

            "Dash…"

            "Kazok…"

            They slowly woke back up, once more found themselves in the Greenland wilderness. But it was different now.

            The Virus was gone…The both of them ran self-scans, and found to their satisfaction it had been deleted…Internal Deletion.

            And then Kazok looked over to Dash, happiness brimming in his eyes.

            "Thank you." Dash cracked a weak smile, the mental fatigue still overwhelming.

            "I should thank you just as much…You set me free."

            "We both set ourselves free." Kazok exhaled, letting his face slip back up to stare at the sky.

            The sky in the real world was just as blue.

            "And now…now we know…"

            "We were forced to become Maverick. All of Sigma's great speeches, his fantastic dreams…nothing but lies and corrupted dreams." Kazok finished. "We alone escaped his madness, and the others…"

            "The others would never believe us." Dash interjected suddenly. "And even if we forced them to confront it…They wouldn't make it."

            "We had each other to rely on." Kazok wheezed. "But them…"

            The two fell silent for a while, until Dash spoke up.

            "You always said you would protect us…but how can you help them?"

            "I can try to keep them alive, for the time being." Kazok stated flatly. "That's all I can do for now…until the Hunters destroy Sigma, and we can get the rest of our URFAWP people freed of his direct control…"

            Dash said nothing. She only squeezed his hand knowingly and lay against the snow, letting her mind and body rest for a while after the intense struggle.

            And Kazok smiled.

            Even in the real world…they were still holding hands.

            "There is one question you haven't asked me." Fannir mused, looking down at Bristol. "Care to ask it now?"

            The reploid shackled to the table below him tried uselessly to control her fluttering eyelids. Now all of her strength had left her, the serum's multiple attacks had just been too much. Even for her. 

            Bristol's head couldn't even tilt towards him. She could only open her mouth the tiniest bit, and even then all she managed was a tiny squeak. 

            Fannir's eyes dulled for a moment, his grin faded away.

            "You can't hold out forever, Bristol. Please…save yourself this agony and…"

            "No." Bristol whispered. Fannir's face of sympathy washed itself away and he nodded.

            "Fine. But as I was saying, the one question you haven't asked is how. How, out of all the reploids at MI9, did I alone survive the Purges?" Bristol offered no answer, so Fannir continued. "A part of it…might be called fate. At the time of the Great Purge, the one you and Willow escaped from, I wasn't where they thought I would be. In their great sweep, I was tucked inside a service duct fixing some wiring. I survived…"

            Fannir shook his head. "But that alone would not be enough to spare me the death we all deserve, no…The true Tarkin had been eliminated as well by the Purges. He was a rogue element in MI9's plans, a human who sympathized with reploids. This they could not have…so they destroyed him. Willow saw him being destroyed, and in the dim light, thought him me." Fannir shrugged, looking at his fingernails. "But even though Tarkin represented an element that MI9 could not have around…there was still the issue of the masquerade. For all his shortcomings, the fool was nonetheless an important part of the bureaucracy." Fannir looked over to Bristol and lifted a finger. "Tarkin still needed to be very visible in the world as an engineer for MI9, carrying out the work left to him by his corrupt, reploid underlings…A role he himself could not fill, and no Enhanced human could either." Fannir turned about and walked back into the darkness of the room, speaking louder. "So it fell to me, you see. That is the second reason I stand alive today. For though I was damned…I was needed." Fannir turned about and smiled in the darkness, his brilliant white teeth shining like the Cheshire cat's grin. "I had worked with all of you. I had worked with Tarkin. Of all the possible candidates to take Tarkin's place, only I had the knowledge and skill to carry out the charade. That is how, Bristol. That is how I became what you see before you now."

            The klaxons reasserted themselves then, and Fannir whirled about in disgust.

            "Christ, those fools haven't disposed of Willow YET?!" He punched his comm. "Damnit, I thought you had the intruders taken care of!"

            "There's more than three intruders now…They've broken off into two groups, and Willow's bunch just escaped their death…Enhanceds are on the scene, but it's not looking good. Doctor Tarkin, please, evacuate while you can!"

            "Blast, NO." Fannir called back, in the same scratchy voice he used to imitate his late advisor. "Not until I've eked out the UBF from Bristol. You and the rest of your guys keep Willow and those others away from me until I've done that!" 

            There was silence on the other end of the horn before the operator spoke up again.

            "I'll relay the message. Doc, you're an inspiration to us all…"

            "Forget that. Just do your job so I can finish mine!" Fannir rattled off, slamming his comm off. He shook his head one last time and sighed. "Christ…we're running out of time in a hurry."

            In a flash, he was beside Bristol, shaking her violently. "Damnit, tell me the UBF!"

            The dullness in her eyes was too much for him. Inside his mind, the two conflicting forces, his feelings for Bristol and the brainwashing MI9 had given him strained for dominance. 

            "Bristol…" Fannir echoed hollowly. 

            She said nothing, she couldn't. Her blue eyes looked up without seeing anything, her body lay limp and motionless. Inside her bloodstream, the powerful serum Fannir had injected her with stood forty five seconds from its next attack. 

            "You're that far gone now, eh?" Fannir mused bitterly, shutting his eyes. He pulled away from her and shook his head. "Why…why couldn't you just have told me the UBF and spared yourself this? That serum's turned you catatonic, and if you don't give in now, it will DESTROY YOU!!"

            Bristol still said nothing, although there was the faintest flicker of an eyelash. Enough that Fannir knew she was still conscious of reality…and that she'd heard him.

            His pleading stare vanished a bit. 

            "So that's how it is, eh? Considering my earlier statements, I don't blame you…" He shook his head. "No matter what, you'll die…and knowing that, you'll even put up with feeling the entire pain of your race to save them. A martyr, is that what you think you're acting like by this resistance?"

            Fannir's face twisted into a snarl.

            "You're wrong…so very wrong. You're not a martyr, you could never hope to be. So just tell me the UBF, and spare yourself the pain. Tell me the UBF, and I'll stop the serum." Fannir's hand went up and caressed the side of her face, his voice becoming tender and worrisome again. "Let me at least let you die gracefully, Bristol. Please…"

            He undid her restraints, lifted her body up and supported her weight on one arm so he could look into her face.

            She looked back, eyes unfocused and life waning away.

            Fannir ran his other hand through her blond hair again, shaking his head.

            "Please…"

            With only twenty seconds left before the serum would take effect again, possibly destroying her, Bristol had simply run out of time.

            Her mouth opened and shut slowly, but with purpose. Even then, Fannir had to crane his neck.

            "UBF…Code 23-898-1983…Frequency 1.27 Gigahertz…"

            Fannir acted fast, reaching down to the datapadd on his waist and punching in a series of numbers.

            When time ran out, the serum's shock didn't come. Fannir had been true to his word…He'd saved Bristol from her horrible death. His comm went active for the briefest of moments, and Bristol could make out the sound of his voice mumbling the UBF to whoever was on the other end of the line.

            The comm clicked off, silence filled the room.

            **_Internal operations energy at 0 .75%._****_ Seek immediate medical help. Auto-stasis unavailable._**

            "It's all over now, Bristol." Fannir said quietly, pulling her limp body closer to his own. "My role at MI9…and your own…they're over now." 

            She said nothing as he ran his free hand through her hair, a gentle motion he mixed with humming. In another place, another time, it might have been considered soothing.

            As it was…he was doing nothing more than remaining by her side until she passed on.

            **_Complete program loss in ten minutes. Auto-stasis unavailable. Seek immediate medical help._**

**_            "Let me call you sweetheart, I'm in love with you…" Fannir sang quietly._**

            Only the darkness sang back to him.

            The two MI9 scientists who had ensnared Allegro and Doan were sick in the head.

            Doan looked at the device the younger one was reeling in with utter revulsion, which combined with the artificial fear their Berserker Beacons created to form a viscous mixture inside his drowned mind. Allegro looked on with similar fear, but also said nothing. He couldn't. 

            "It's been so very long since we've had reploids to tinker with." The young one said gaily, pushing a button on the side of the odd shaped device. The old one rolled his eyes.

            "You're bound and determined to mutilate every last one you get your hands on, aren't you? Why don't you just kill them now?"

            "What, and miss their wonderful screams?" The young one snorted. "I think not."

            The older one had turned back to his monitor displays and sighed.

            "You know, there's a fine line between following an objective and being sick about it. You crossed it a long time ago."

            "So I did, so I did…"

            Doan's wide eyes stared out at them both, and at the machine. Frozen in place by irrational terror, and unable to break free, he remained pinned against the wall. But even then, he tried…he tried so desperately to break those bonds.

            His valiant efforts appeared as tiny flexes in his arms and legs, which were easily noticed by the humans.

            "Aww, that's sickeningly cute…this poor widdle reploid's trying to make a run for it!" The younger one snickered. The machine sitting in front of Doan activated, expanding its ovoid head out and freeing a pair of mechanical hands. One was a set of pincers, and the other crackled with the forming of a small plasma blade. "I guess we'll have to slice his legs off first now, won't we?"

            "N…No…" Doan groaned. "Don't…"

            The human snorted, then tapped a few controls on the side of the device.

            It drew nearer, stretching out its arms and pulling the plasma blade nearer and nearer to Doan's leg.

            "Reploids bleed…quite liberally, if you do it right." The human cackled.

            Doan managed to eke out a low guttural scream then, which started low in his throat and only grew stronger.

            The plasma cutter was only centimeters away from Doan's leg when he snapped.

            All his fear, his terror was transformed in that moment, freeing him and sending unimaginable amounts of reploid adrenaline into his systems.

            The two humans in the room barely had time to look up and register shock on their faces as Doan lunged from the wall, screaming his head off. He viciously slammed the steel toe of his right foot into the side of their torture device and sent it crashing into the wall, exploding into shards.

            He stood there for several moments more, chest heaving up and down as he looked at them both with glazed eyes.

            "Try to kill me, will you…" He straightened up, his beam lance still held tightly in his neurotic grip. "The lot of you are nothing more than sadistic freaks…"

            "How can…it's not possible!!" The older one stammered. "The Berserker Beacon is unconquerable!!"

            Doan didn't care about that. They'd tried to keep him paralyzed in fear, but forgotten one crucial element…how self-preservation kicked in, and provided an almost unbelievable force that overcame all things. Even fear. That terror they'd instilled had been transformed, and now it was driving Doan, not slowing him down.

            In two smooth stabs of his beam lance and one small hop from his dash thrusters, Doan ended the lives of the two murderous MI9 scientists. Their faces were still frozen in fear and pain as their bodies collapsed to the ground, each having a small charred hole torn right through their bodies where their hearts had been.

            Doan's next slash shattered the Berserker Beacon in pieces where it had fallen on the floor, ending the mind-numbing effects. For Doan, it was like being released from the most powerful drug in existence and left to live in a weakened state.

            Exhaling a long breath, he turned his beam lance off and slumped to one knee.

            "Last time that's ever going to happen to me." Doan swore to himself. He turned about. "Allegro, how you holding up?"

            The reploid sat with his legs outstretched and his back against the wall. His face was drained, and his synthskin was pale.

            "I wish I knew how you broke free of that…"

            "Turning fear into strength." Doan replied. "Hopefully, it isn't a talent you'll ever need."

            Slowly, Allegro picked himself back up and plucked his beam staff from where it had fallen on the floor.

            "Let's hope not." He turned about. "In the meantime, let's finish what we came here for." Doan nodded, his face once more gaining that starkness lost from the effects of the Beacon.

            The two scientists had left the power core's controls open and unlocked…

            "I suppose they thought we'd never get free." Allegro voiced. Doan harrumphed.

            "Well, that idea failed." He tapped the access controls and brought up the reaction rate monitor. "Now lemme see…increase reaction rate by 15%..."

            A few taps later, Doan nodded.

            "That would do it." Sure enough, countless warnings began to blare and the klaxons began anew, at a faster pace.

            Allegro turned about and blinked his eyes in shock.

            "Waitta minute…THE OTHERS!!" He turned back to Doan. "Doan, the others…if we were attacked like this, they must have been hit worse, they knew THEY were coming!!" He pulled his beam staff out. "We gotta go help them, if they're going to get to Bristol in time…"

            "No." Doan uttered. His face was calm as he shot down Allegro's fresh wave of heroism. "That isn't our job. We were supposed to get to the main power core of MI9 HQ and set it to blow. We've done that." He looked back at the screen. "And unless we boot out of here in the next three minutes, we're toast." It was then he turned around and fired off a roiling wave of fire from his Buster, melting the controls of the power core into uselessness. "Willow made that point clear to us. We do our part of this mission and we get out." He turned to Allegro, eyes stony. "Capiche?"

            Allegro looked at Doan in disbelief. "You're just going to leave them here?! To face the rest of MI9 all by themselves?!"

            "This is what they wanted, remember?" Doan said calmly. "There's no room for heroics here. Heroics cost people lives, which is not something we can exactly spare right now."

            Allegro stood there fuming for several moments, but eventually he shut off his beam staff and tucked it away.

            "Fine." He mumbled. "Then let's go…and pray with everything you got that they succeeded."

            Doan shut his eyes, then opened them back up as if waking from a trance.

            "Oh, they'll make it." He assured Allegro. "As long as Wycost's there, they'll make it."

            "You have that much trust in the guy?"

            "I have known him since before the First Uprising." Doan noted. "I think that's enough time to identify his capabilities."

            The two vanished from MI9's now self-destructing HQ in two blazing beams of light, which shot through ground and concrete alike.

            Now there was very little time left indeed to save Bristol.

            There had been no Enhanced humans around when the artificial barriers squeezed together with a resounding thud, loud enough to chill even the stoutest of hearts.

            Which was exactly what made it all the more sweet. Five feet away from where the barriers had slammed into each other, three clouds of scrambled mass and energy suddenly drew themselves back together, reforming into a relieved Bastion, a terse Willow, and a grinning Wycost.

            "Well…Whaddya know. The faintwarp worked." The Bronx Bomber folded his arms and turned about to the TitaniTefloAlloy barriers crushed together behind them. "If that stuff had been any thicker than two meters, we would have been screwed…but as it was, there was little enough of that screwy metal it worked."

            "Faintwarping…" Bastion mused, rubbing at his chin. "Somehow that seems to ring a bell."

            "Apparently, it was a trick that Mega Man used to great advantage in the Second Robot Rebellion." Willow answered for him. Wycost looked at her, peering over the rim of his sunglasses. "What, didn't ye know I can read, lad?"

            Just then, a more serious and frantic klaxon wail caught their attention. Willow's head whipped around in stunned shock.

            "Damnit…those two fools move quick."

            "What's that?!" Bastion shouted.

            "Power core breach." Willow explained. "Looks like Doan and Allegro managed to pull off their little sabotage."

            **_"Warning._****_ Power core breach. Complete microfusion breakdown in two minutes. Please evacuate at once."_**

            "Let's move it!!" Bastion cried. "We must find Bristol before then!!" Nodding their heads in unison, the two warriors beside the Desert Angel ignited their dash thrusters and soared on, pushing their own limits as they traversed the final section of hallway.

            "I'll never understand why they have to make those damned announcements so politically correct…" Wycost groused, firing off a blast from his Buster to tear down a sudden blast door that had risen up from the floor to block them. It was blown off its hinges and sent flying ten feet back, which Willow and Wycost easily jumped before then. Bastion hovered along on his Angel's Advantage flight wings, soaring through the air without difficulty.

            It seemed that for the time being, the Enhanceds had suddenly realized that this place was doomed, and that to hang around meant death. The three reploids had no opposition as they charged on and made the final leg to the R&D section of MI9 with 90 seconds left to spare.

            It was Willow who drew up to the door first with her hard green eyes.

            "I've got it." She snapped, pulling out her beam whip and making two clean slashes across the durable metal surface. It stood for another moment, then fell to the ground in a heap inside of the room.

            Bastion, Bristol and Wycost had barely made their way inside when the ambiance struck them, and chilled more than one heart.

            Most of the room was pitch black, filled with darkness untouched by monitor lights or blinking LEDs. A computer off to one side of the room glowed with its own life, but did little to throw back the rest of the shadows.

            And there was the center of the room. A single operating table stood there with the bright overhead lamp shining down on it, and two figures were on the cold surface.

            One, a limp, listless, barely clothed, and all too dead looking woman with dull blue eyes and stranded blond hair with pink highlights…

            And holding her close and humming a tune to the darkness, was a figure with his hands running through that perfect golden hair, his expression a cross between a smile and a saddened mask of anguish.

            Willow's throat went dry.

            "Oh…God no…"

            One thing that hadn't changed about Japan much in the last one hundred years was its love of American Rock music…as well as their inability to sing it correctly. Karaoke bars appeared to be a fad that didn't show any sign of dying anytime soon.

            Hazil slammed his glass back down on the bar, while an inebriated old man warbled to 'Lady' by Styx. "Nothing like good alcohol and bad singing." He grunted, motioning to the reploid barkeep. "Fill 'er up, sonny."

            J.K. Horn folded his arms and stared over the rim of his Bloody Mary at the medical reploid from the MHHQ. "Just how many rounds of that sake are you planning to down? That was your ninth."

            "As many as I've had years working in that building." Hazil replied, looking to the empty glass the barkeep hung over with the old fashioned pitcher. "Which means I still have four more to go."

            "There ya go, gramps." The barkeep noted, winking. "Enjoy." Hazil rolled his eyes at the young reploid and picked up the once more filled glass.

            Beside him, two middle aged gentlemen had been keeping count of his drinks.

            "Kokonotsu…BANZAI!!!" They shouted in unison. Hazil downed it in one gulp and slammed it back down.

            "Fill 'er up, sonny."

            "Sure thing, gramps."

            Hazil grinned impishly as he looked around. It wasn't that the alcohol was getting to him…it'd take a little more yet to do that…it was just that after 13 years of seclusion in the walls of the MHHQ, jumping back into the outside world was the most refreshing dip ever. 

            "Toh…BANZAI!!"

            J.K. Horn rolled his eyes and waited as Hazil finished his rounds.

            "Done now?"

            "Lemme see…" Hazil murmured. He looked around, then looked down at his empty shot glass. "Yeah. I guess."

            "I hope so. You drank enough to stone a horse."

            "I've done worse in my time…In my line of work, drinking yourself into oblivion is more than a bad life choice. It comes with the territory." Hazil slid the shot glass back to the bartender. "That'll be enough for tonight, sonny. Rack up my tab and tell me the damages."

            "Well, gramps, let's call it good at twenty creds."

            "Tip included?"

            "Most definitely." The bartender said with a wink. "But come back next time, I'll give you a freebie. Anyone who can down that much sake in…" He looked at his watch, "Three minutes, deserves one."

            Horn slammed a twenty unit credcard down on the bar and cleared his throat. "All right then, fella, let's get going."

            The night sky of New Tokyo blazed with traditional neon lights as the two resumed a course back to the MHHQ, their repulsor two-seater on loan from the MHHQ's hangar moving smoothly along the highway.

            Horn drove, eyes looking on ahead through the traffic and to his ultimate goal at least another mile off. Both hands on the wheel, the elderly reploid simply chugged along at his own pace, not pushing the microfusion engine of the vehicle to its maximum power.

            Hazil sat in the passenger seat, head slightly tilted onto his shoulder as he looked off to the side, staring off into the empty horizon of night. Half of the sky was cloudy, and the other half was clear. One arm hung down loosely outside of the vehicle, being blown about by the wind's forces. He said nothing, but let his dull tired eyes stare out for himself.

            "Still moping?"

            "Still thinking." Hazil answered back.

            "About?"

            "Life in general." The medical reploid said. He turned over to Horn and twinged the corner of his mouth. "Do you know how much the world has changed since our race came into being?"

            "I'm afraid my view on it was highly limited." J.K. Horn answered back. "Unlike you, I didn't have the luxury of spending my glory days in one of the most exciting and world altering groups ever created. I was stuck in the backwater R&D facilities of the Israeli coalition. So you'll have to just continue your rant."

            "Back in 2118, before June 4th, the term 'Maverick Uprising' didn't exist. Humanity sat comfy and cozy, knowing the great and noble Maverick Hunters were there to always protect them. We ourselves in the MHHQ rested on our laurels. My own job went only as far as patching up stupid greenhorns who got too big for their britches. Sigma and his best Maverick Hunters, recruited from all walks of life, and two of them my closest friends, led the Hunters as the 1st Unit. To this very day, no other Hunter group has carried that distinction. There was only one 1st Unit, and they're gone now."

            Hazil dropped his head back against the seat. "And then they all went Maverick. Sigma went first, damn him…He dragged the lot of them down that dark path with him. But somehow, the world wasn't meant to end like that, destroyed by its would be saviors…"

            "Mega Man X…"

            "Out of nowhere, when this tortured planet needed a hero most, one appeared. With the legacy of a hero beating inside his artificial heart. His brother had protected the world countless times over in the age before. And now it fell down to that goofy little pacifist to do the impossible. Stop Sigma. Stop the Mavericks. And quash their plans of world domination." Hazil slumped lower into the vehicle's seat. "Time and time again, that crazy blue fool and his red friend Zero have stopped Uprising after Uprising. They've dealt with the World Trial of 2124. They've killed friends and enemies alike in this mess of things. And yet never once did they stop. Because they can't."

            "What do you mean?" Horn asked, lifting an eyebrow over his normal optic.

            Hazil turned his face around and looked at Horn.

            "You don't get it yet, do you??"

            The look on Horn's face said about as much.

            "We're expendable. We all are nothing more than the side players, the random ensign. We'll die one day in this mindless crusade. Only X, Zero, and Sigma will keep going. After we've all perished or moved on, those three will still be fighting. Sigma, because he can no longer stop himself…and X and Zero, because they have yet to stop him." Hazil looked forward down the road and exhaled. "And so far as fate is concerned about time, ours is up. We no longer belong here, in this place, in this struggle, in this conflict. All we can do is move on, and carry the memory with us. Because when you die, that's all you have left to you. Your memories to carry you to the great beyond."

            Horn pursed his lips at that, then tightened his grip on the wheel.

            "Maybe that's the problem with us old reploids."

            "What?"

            "We see the world for what it truly is. A troubled mess, going down on a path of its own extinction."

            Hazil said nothing at that.

            The car drove down the lonely highway, bound for a building that had been attacked and rebuilt countless times over…

            A place that perhaps, nobody but the dead could truly call home.

            The air inside the mineshaft was thick with the acrid scent of ozone and shattered crystal. Anyone who would have stuck their head inside the shaft's opening would have found themselves overwhelmed with the utter bitterness of it.

            And then there was the sound. Blasts and explosions and hisses so chilling the workers above shut off their equipment and listened in, eyes wide as they wondered if the coming of the Apocalypse was sprouting beneath them.

            But it was just X and Zero. The greatest of all the Maverick Hunters, fighting now at a pace that would make most shudder in the simple thought of such maneuvers.

            Their dash thrusters belched angry fire, not once shutting off. Every last safety had been deactivated, they were flying now on skill and rage alone.

            For every slash Zero could muster, X had a supershot ranging down to his head. The two were evenly matched, and even found themselves exchanging physical blows on top of it all.

            "Come on, X!!" Zero barked, bringing his green saber up in a powerful slice to try and cleave the Blue Bomber in half. Of course he knew the tactic wouldn't work…It was meant only to set X off his guard. X jumped away from the slash, turning his dash boots towards Zero in an attempt to singe the Crimson Hunter and prevent a followup…

            "You may be good, Zero, but you said it yourself once!!" X shouted, unleashing a semi-charged bolt of green plasma. Zero easily cleaved the shot in half and lifted his free arm, forming it into his Buster and unleashing his own blast.

            Somehow, X ducked low to the ground, crouching on one knee with one hand helping to balance him. Zero's shot soared overhead, easily missing the smaller blue Maverick Hunter. Surprised, Zero didn't have enough time to fire a second bolt.

            "When I want to take something down…I DO!!" X screamed, hurling himself forth in one final blast of dash thruster flames and colliding into Zero.

            The two skidded to a halt on the floor, turned sideways and glaring into one another's eyes with near murderous intent.

            "Game over." X said through gritted teeth. His Buster was cocked, fully charged, and aimed at the side of Zero's head.

            The Crimson Hunter let the corner of his mouth curl up in a half smile. "For you, you mean."

            It was then X noticed Zero's beam saber lying centimeters away from severing through his neck.

            They lay there like that for a while longer before the two of them cracked smiles simultaneously. Zero's beam saber shut off, and X's Buster morphed back into a hand.

            They got up and brushed the countless Energen crystal shards off of their bodies.

            "Not bad, X." Zero murmured in approval. "Not bad at all. Maybe you do stand a chance of remaining a potent threat to the Mavericks after all."

            X rubbed at his wrist and shrugged.

            "As long as they threaten innocents, and as long as I must win…"

            "Yeah, yeah, I know. The limited nature of your fighting abilities." Zero sighed. "Only when it really counts. But trust me…whatever comes next will most definitely count."

            "I know." X said quietly, looking at the still glistening ceiling. "I know it will. After thirteen years of having to stare down Sigma and his madness, it's just become instinctive."

            "You took my advice, then…" Zero muttered. "You just have to feel him out."

            "I don't feel him as much as…as much as I feel time." X replied, folding his arms. "It's hard to explain, but I guess if I were to compare it to something, you might call time, or fate, or whatever you wanna call it the storm lurking just over the horizon."

            "Oh?"

            "It just sits there…this oppressive blackness that you can't help but stare at and feel chilled by. Even if it's a perfectly cloudy day, you still stare at the horizon and know it's coming. And after a while, that's the problem…you begin to spend too much time watching the horizon, and not enough enjoying the present." X turned to Zero. "That's something I still have problems with some days…separating the battle yet to come away from the now. Life is precious, Zero. It's too short for any of us to truly relish…and we only get one shot at it."

            "Speak for yourself." Zero clipped with a grin. X gave him a dull dead look.

            "Should I say the same for Iris?"

            That stopped Zero's smile then and there. 

            "Don't ever mention that again. She's not the same Iris, X…she can't be. The Iris I knew only attacked me because she went insane, transformed Colonel's power into herself. That drove her over the edge. But the Iris with Sigma…Blast it, that isn't HER!! She isn't the one I fell in love with, she's not the one I had to watch die in my arms!!"

            "So why then were you so shaken up about it?" X asked. Zero blinked a few times and bowed his head.

            The Blue Bomber of 21XX sighed. "Zero, compared to you, my problems are miniscule. All I've lost is the legacy left to me by my father, his armor sets. But you still haven't moved on. You never forgave yourself for what happened then, you never buried Iris and got on with your life."

            "And you're saying that's holding me back?"

            "Until you do that…until you let the dead be, you'll never be the Hunter I looked up to. And some day, Sigma may get the best of you. All because you were too strong in will…and not strong enough in your heart."

            X walked over to Zero and clasped an arm on his shoulder. "But for now, let's head back."

            "Yeah…" Zero murmured, finally looking up. "I suppose fate isn't through with us yet, is it?"

            "Not by a longshot." X answered back in almost a whisper.

            The two shot off in blazing beams of warp light. But even then, the hollow chambers of the Energen Crystal mine carried those last words.

            _Not by a longshot…not by a longshot…_

            "Fannir…" Willow croaked. The dim light in the room kept its pallor, and yet somehow the male figure stroking Bristol's hair looked up.

            "Willow. So you finally came." He said drily, not once lifting a hand up away from Bristol. "You almost ruined everything…But it seems that everything will work out as it was meant to, anyway…"

            "You monster…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!" Bastion screamed, charging towards Fannir. 

            Fannir tsked and raised his free hand, pointing it palmfirst at the enraged Maverick Hunter. Before Bastion realized what had happened, a massive energy field had slammed into him and sent him sprawling to the floor.

            "No less than any of us will suffer one day." Fannir mused quietly. "That is the nature of our accursed race…of any race who dares to act against its makers. To be destroyed, to be utterly wiped off of the map."

            Willow drew her beam whip and shook her head back and forth.

            "You can't be Fannir…you're not the Fannir I knew. He died! And he would never act like this!!"

            "The Fannir you knew was a mindless fool too caught up in his own visions of grandeur to see the truth. MI9 showed me that truth, Willow." Fannir answered back calmly. "You fools sought to stop us, didn't you? You all wondered why we have kept Bristol alive…even though now, she lays here in my arms, dying."

            The klaxon blared again and Fannir shook his head. "But then, none of us will be alive now, isn't that the truth of it?" He looked at the incredulous Willow. "There's only a minute now before this place is blown away by the cleansing fires. I'll go with it, and Bristol will go with it as well. And yet the legacy continues on…" He grinned at them. "You cannot stop MI9 now…Ice Beacon now has the Universal Berserker Frequency, The Cleansing will now see the light of day!!"

            "You sick freak…" Wycost murmured, shaking his head. "Just listen to yourself, you're not even speaking rationally. You've gone Irregular…"

            "LIAR!!" Fannir snapped suddenly, the serene look on his face vanishing into rage. His free hand pointed angrily at the Bronx Bomber. "I was shown the error of my ways, but you and the rest of our bastard kind in this unclean world have not known Truth…It's all too rational, I'm afraid. We don't deserve to live. And we cannot live." Fannir looked down at Bristol, still on the brink of death. "Even she can no longer live. I didn't want to kill her…I didn't, but she was too stubborn, wouldn't…" Fannir's voice broke up, he lost all sense of himself.

            In that moment, Bristol stirred to life once more.

            **Warning.**** Excess physical activity. Total program loss now in three minutes. Seek immediate medical attention.**

**            "Fannir…" Bristol whispered, so softly only Fannir and Bastion, stumbling back up to his feet close by could hear. "What good ever came…from mindless destruction?"**

            The wild eyed MI9 reploid looked down in stunned disbelief.

            "Bristol…" He said, shocked. "How…You were…"

            "You once said you loved me…so why now do you kill the ones you love?"

            Bastion got up and walked over next to Fannir, reaching a hand down onto Bristol's shoulder. Fannir did nothing, he simply stared down at the dying, angelic face of Bristol with fear and recognition dawning on his face.

            "I…I…" He began hesitantly. "I've…No, it can't be…" He grimaced and put a hand to his head. "No…what have…no…"

            "Let her go, Fannir." Bastion stated quietly. "At least give her a chance at life. Give her that much."

            Fannir sat there and clutched at his head, groaning as the two distinct and shattered halves of his personality clashed. In the end, he screamed and fell limp.

            Gently, Bastion picked up Bristol into his arms and looked into her blue eyes.

            "Bristol…" 

            Her blue eyes gleamed with the beginnings of tears.

            "You came…you came…" She whispered, growing colder and limper by the moment. Bastion shook his head sadly.

            "I should have come for you far sooner…"

            "Her locket…" Fannir finally said. Wycost blinked a few times, then looked around the room until he spied the item of jewelry, grabbing onto it and putting it in Bristol's weak hand. "She's dying…needs energy to live." Fannir added dully.

            Willow hadn't heard him. At mention of the UBF and 'Ice Beacon', she'd sparred herself into action at the nearby computer terminal, dragging up file after file until the horrible truth of it was staring her into the face.

            "God…" Wycost looked up from Bristol over to her.

            "What?" He asked, walking next to her. Then his eye caught the screen, and the data projections it offered. His face paled instantly. "Oh, Jesus Christ…"

            "Ice Beacon...will be operational by tomorrow." Fannir mumbled quietly. 

            The klaxon wailed again. Fifteen seconds.

            "No time to lose." Willow snapped, copying the data to a nearby datapadd and running next to Bastion and Bristol. "Let's MOVE!!"

            Bastion looked down into Bristol's serene features, and then to the nervous Irish reploid beside him. He nodded once, and then vanished up into the sky in a blink of warp fire, Bristol still in his arms. Willow followed soon afterwards, leaving only Wycost.

            The Bronx Bomber turned and stared long and hard at the MI9 reploid, who sat on the medical cot in the center of that lonely room with the single light shining down on him. He tightened his jaw and dropped his sunglare goggles.

            "Fate have mercy on your soul, Fannir. Fate have mercy."

            And then, he too vanished.

            Numbly, Fannir noted their passing, leaving him alone in that quiet room to lift a trembling hand up and stare at it.

            "Ice Beacon…" He whispered to himself. "Was MI9 right…or were they so very wrong…"

            The klaxon reasserted itself. Eight seconds.

            Despite himself, despite the fact he would be dead in less time than the average TV commercial, Fannir found a twisted smile coming to his face. Perhaps he smiled because he sensed that no matter what those fools did, nothing could stop The Cleansing now. Or perhaps he smiled because of the opposite: Because he had a flash of what might be, and saw all of MI9's dark plans for the extinction of reploids and robots vanishing into the shadows of his determined races' desire to live.

            Five seconds.

            "Who's to say which way fate turns…" Fannir asked himself, looking up at the ceiling, and to the sky and heavens above. "Either way, this planet BURNS!!"

            Three seconds.

            Fannir threw his head back and laughed long and hard, an uncontrollable laugh born, or perhaps giving birth to utter insanity.

            He laughed until the bitter, glorious nuclear powered end.

            Cleo, Horn and Hazil had all reconvened inside the Medical Bay of the MHHQ, anxiously awaiting the outcome of the mission their friends had left on.

            Doan and Allegro had returned only minutes ago, with a grim tale of Enhanced humans, a base of true malignancy, and a disposition that made even the stoic Doan shiver a bit at just how twisted humanity could become.

            And yet they had no inkling whatsoever of how the second half of the mission…Bristol's rescue…had turned out. 

            The Medical Bay's lights were dimmed to 75%, and Hazil sat at his desk dolefully rubbing at his forehead. Horn stood off to one corner, tapping at his arm. Allegro was lying down on one of the cots, quietly throwing a rubber ball up into the air and catching it. Doan and Cleo leaned up against another wall of the room, Cleo nestled with her head on Doan's chest, and Doan silently rubbing her back.

            Three warp beams suddenly crashed down in front of them all, breaking the malaise by shock alone. Hazil leapt to his feet, one hand already grabbing ahold of a medical scanner as he approached Bastion, and a near dead and half-clothed Bristol in the Commander's arms.

            "God…" Hazil gasped as he saw the numbers run across the tiny screen. "She's less than three minutes away from total program loss! STICK HER ON THE TABLE NOW!!" 

            Bastion replied instantly, laying her down on a nearby operations table. Hazil literally flung himself across the room and brought over a life support machine, attaching it to Bristol's arms, legs, and even stomach. The synthskin parted at the various nodule's presence, and extended 'feeding tubes' of a sort that instantly began to draw every erg Hazil's recovery machine could offer.

            Bristol's eyes fluttered back to life a few moments later, and Hazil put a hand on her shoulder.

            "Don't you even THINK of Goddamn moving, Bristol…any more shock to your systems and we're going to lose you. You were at less than .50% of power!!" 

            "Bastion…" Bristol squeaked weakly, refusing to tilt her face but still having her eyes well up. "Where's Bastion??"

            "I'm here." Bastion reassured her, cupping one of her hands in both of his. "It's going to be all right now, everything's going to be all right…" Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, leaving her locket inside her enclosed palm.

            Willow appeared on the other side of Bristol shaking her read head of hair.

            "Lass, you had us worried half to death…"

            "Willow…" Bristol croaked, recognizing the voice instantly. "I'm sorry…I should have never gone back…Now they have the UBF…"

            "Just rest for now." Willow stated firmly. "We'll deal with that mess tomorrow."

            "No time, we have no time…Ice Beacon…" Bristol squeaked. But there, her voice gave out, her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed into auto-stasis…now that her body had enough energy to undergo the procedure.

            Hazil clucked his tongue in disbelief.

            "Somebody brought her to the brink of death…she survived only by strength of will alone." 

            "What did she mean, we have no time??" Doan asked, pulling himself away from Cleo and turning to Willow. 

            The Irish Banshee turned about, eyes cold as stones.

            "Just what she said. Apparently, there was such a thing as the Universal Berserker Frequency…And MI9, more properly, FANNIR, tortured it out of the poor lass."

            "Universal Berserker Frequency?" Horn repeated incredulously. "You mean, a harmonic used by those Godforsaken Berserker Beacons that work on all reploids?"

            "Aye." Willow continued. "And what's worse, is they're integrating it with Ice Beacon."

            "So what does that all mean then?" Cleo asked, stepping beside Doan and lifting an eyebrow.

            Willow's face was cold hard as she looked around the room, then walked over and sat down beside Bristol. 

            "This." She finally spoke up.

            "By nightfall tomorrow, every last reploid will be for all purposes, dead. MI9 has come up with a plan to cause the complete genocide of our species."

            The comment hung in the air like a foul odor. None believed it at first…

            And then all realized just how very true it was.

            MI9 was making its final, desperate strides.


	20. Curse Of The Oracle

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CURSE OF THE ORACLE

            Hazil had spent most of the night working and slaving over Bristol, purging her blood of the damnable serum that had turned her body's nanobots against every system in her body. Now at 2 A.M the next day, MHHQ time, the medical reploid was beginning to feel like he'd finished up everything he could.

            "Well, Bristol, it seems you were bound and determined to be the next person on my 'deaths' list." Hazil said quietly, reaching down to the blood filter inserted into her neck. The synthskin had peeled itself away when Hazil had brought it near, and now as he pulled the intertubule from her main neck's artery, it closed itself just as quickly. Hazil sighed in relief at that. He'd been worried her structural damage had been far more serious…but in the long run, all that serum had managed to do was turn her bloodstream's nanobots and slowly but surely, through a painful series of inner shocks, drive her body closer and closer to death. Somehow, its effect had been halted right at the point before she would have perished. 

            The medical reploid shut the filter off and stared at the viscous green garbage that had been removed, sitting like a tumor inside the device's cache. He peered at it long and hard, then shook his head.

            "Somehow, the intelligent races on this Earth can always think of a hundred different ways to kill people, and yet at the same time can only bring up around five new ways to save them." He drew the operations curtain back and walked out, running a hand through his hair. "If I ever got to meet the bastard who came up with that little number of a serum, I'd gladly shake his hand…and then proceed to rip it off and bash him with it." The craziest part about Hazil's statement was that he was dead serious. Most statements before and right after a long session of drinking were. During was another thing, the close friends around him had discovered. He usually got carried away then.

            He exited out of the separate side room of the Medical Bay and into the main pavilion, where every last one of the eclectic group sat waiting. Hazil had to take a second look to make sure they were all still there.

            Wycost for one…his armor discarded for a more conservative green t-shirt, black leather jacket and blue jeans. His black hair was bristling as ever, and there sat his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Just by how he held his head made it seem as if he stared at nothing and everything at the same time.

            There on one of the waiting benches sat Doan, refusing to change out of his armor, but his helmet lying on the floor beside him. Cleo, that chipper and dazzling example of female genius was leaned up against him, eyelids blinking as she dozed peacefully. The medical reploid didn't fail to notice that the stoic Doan still rubbed a hand up and down the side of her neck.

            Allegro and J.K.—Julius Kinnian—Horn had pulled up two chairs next to one of the medical cots and were now playing what looked to be Gin Rummy. Horn's face was a mask of serenity, while Allegro's was far more scrunched and concerned. Maybe that came from the fact Horn had just knocked, and Allegro had a handful of garbage. Hazil perked his ears up…he'd been so preoccupied with Bristol's condition and randomly staring about the room he had missed the familiar crackle of a radio broadcast from another corner of the room.

            "…Large explosion occurred only hours ago here in the rural countryside of England, catching all by surprise. Sources nearby indicated that the explosion had been loud and brilliant, but had little outside damage aside from that brought about by the blast's concussion. Investigators on the scene comment that the damage was minimal, and seemed to happen in the middle of nowhere. Still, the burrowed hemispheric shaped crater dug deep into the English soil would seem to indicate that it was a large microfusion detonation that caused the incident…"

            Wycost went over to the blaring radio and shut it off. Hazil narrowed his eyes, but Wycost merely turned around at him and shrugged.

            "Let the world wonder. The only people who need to know what happened there do." The Bronx Bomber went back to his corner of the room and Hazil shrugged, letting his eyes continue their wary scan.

            Willow sat on another patientless medical cot, her legs crossed and head bowed in thought, red hair hanging like a drape over her face. Most of the rest of her body was hidden by a seagreen cloak, perhaps more of a poncho, that she had summoned out of nowhere. Her emotions, Hazil decided, were best left untouched by his scrutiny. He didn't know her well enough, and she certainly didn't make a habit of letting people get too close from what little of her he'd seen.

            Which left Bastion…If he was here. Hazil looked about the room, and couldn't see any sign of the Desert Angel…

            "Look above you." Came the ragged voice of the aforementioned Hunter. Hazil snapped his head up, only to find Bastion's face looking down at him from only inches away. Hazil jumped away in surprise until he realized how Bastion was doing it…his Archangel wings were active, allowing him to sit cross legged on the ceiling with his arms folded in an inverted position to the rest of the Medical Bay's inhabitants.

            "How is she?" Bastion asked shortly, denying the medical reploid a chance to utter a question of his own. Hazil opened his mouth once, shut it, then opened it again. Bastion's face tightened to the point of breaking. "DAMNIT, HAZIL…"

            "She'll be fine." Hazil assured him. "She'll be tired, cranky, and sore when she wakes up, but she'll live. I just hope you all are able to undo the emotional damage."

            "Acknowledging the truth wasn't easy for me either, ye know." Willow chirped, lifting her dazzling green eyes to shine through her red hair. "But in this case, it's definitely a few notches more difficult." She got up from her position and faced Hazil. "Just how long until the lass will be up again?"

            Hazil blinked at her a few times, hardly believing the question.

            "In her state of physical and mental exhaustion, I really don't want her getting up for another day or so…"

            "You'll have to be changing those plans then, O'Reilly." Willow chirped. Hazil narrowed his eyes at her.

            "And just what is so damned important you'd risk her life to pull her out of recovery stasis early?!"

            Willow looked back at Hazil, green eyes calm. "Not much, really. I suppose the survival of our race really doesn't matter. As a matter of fact, how about we all wait until tomorrow? By then MI9 will have carried through with Ice Beacon and doomed us all. So just go ahead and let her sleep what little life she has left on this Earth. Not that big of a deal, but I thought I'd at least TRY."

            Wycost cracked a smile, despite the fact there was very little left to laugh at anymore. After he'd realized Willow wasn't an enemy, he'd begun to watch her closely. She had a sort of bitter, dry real world humor about her, the kind Wycost paralleled. The both of them had spent most of their lives in Hellish conditions, which did little to give them good social graces. It did wonders for winning conversations, though.

            "Yeah, that." Hazil muttered to himself. He looked up at Bastion, and then around the room. "And just how is that supposed to happen? This Apocalypse sent from Ice Beacon, I mean." Willow looked at him coldly.

            "The Berserker Beacons were designed by Bristol at the time, to be used against Mavericks. But for all purposes, they can cause their effects in any plum reploid off the street. 'Be they Irregular or be they straight, every last one will suffer the fate!' I think that's what Jowers chuckled once. Wretched excuse of a man…" She shook her head. "Ice Beacon is a gigantic transmitter dish built out of the solid ice miles deep on Antarctica. This in itself would pose no difficulty…were it not for the fact that despite all rational beliefs held by me and Tarkin, there is indeed a Universal Berserker Frequency. A frequency and signal attitude that will place in every reploid it reaches the same state of paranoia, fear, and utter terror. We call it The Trembling." She looked up to Bastion. "Your dearest is a genius, Bastion. Make no mistake in that. Just know it may well cause the end of our race, and that if the world goes mad, it truly is her fault."

            Bastion glowered at her, but said nothing. Willow shrugged and turned to look at Horn for a moment.

            "What MI9 plans to do is throw the Universal Berserker Frequency planetwide, to hit every inch of land and sea with that unstoppable madness. Reploids will be hit with it, will scream in fear and rampage and flitter in terror. By itself, the power of a Berserker Beacon cannot instill death. But MI9 doesn't want to simply kill every reploid on Earth. That would do nothing."

            "I don't get it…" Doan uttered, being careful not to disturb Cleo. "Why don't they try and modify the stuff behind the Beacon and make it more powerful, so it just CAN destroy every reploid on Earth?"

            "Because humanity would rebuild them." Willow answered calmly. "If reploids were to vanish from this earth ten minutes from now, humanity would rebuild them. Because there would be no reason for reploids to stay deceased." She lifted a finger at the Ghost Wind. "But their plan is foolproof. It plays on humanity's nature like a drum. They'll send the signal from Ice Beacon, route it through every communications satellite in earth's orbit, which will then cause it to descend down upon us all. When that happens, every reploid will go berserk. And that is when everything has the capability to fall apart." She folded her arms underneath her cloak and looked down for a moment, then pulled her head back up, looking out blankly at no one this time. "In effect, every reploid on Earth will go, whether they want to or not, berserk. Which in human terms equates to Irregular—Maverick. When that happens, humanity as a whole will discard us. We'll be too much of a danger to their eyes. All everyone will know is that every reploid on Earth has gone off of the deep end. They won't know that a powerful, undefeatable signal hailing from Antarctica was the true source of the madness. MI9 seeks the end of all of us, an end to the age of robots and reploids and advanced technology. An end to the madness that began with the Wars of 2040, continued with Wily, and now in what MI9 considers to be the final dark chapter, all reploids entirely. But they will not strike the finishing blow. That will be left to all of humanity. MI9 will simply make it impossible for their race to ignore reploid genocide as the only viable option any longer."

            The Medical Bay of the MHHQ was most definitely one of the loneliest places on Earth. The only people who had ever come here 97% of the time had belonged in two groups—the dying, or the dead. Even now, that held true with grim irony.

            Hazil stuffed his hands back into his laboratory coat pockets and chuckled a bit.

            "Well, this is definitely new. Usually I'm the one giving terminal prognoses."

            Kalinka, now in June of 2085 was a knockout. That girlish charm she had held ten years before in 2075 and the Fourth Robot Rebellion had blossomed out, revealing the breathtaking blond beauty beneath. Sergei Cossack, her father, had noticed it, and so had every other Tom, Dick, and Larry. The brown haired robotics engineer merely chuckled a bit and shook his head sadly whenever he looked at her. He saw too much of her mother in those innocent features.

            It was those features Protoman found himself staring at over a chessboard. Whether most people believed it or not, all blondes were NOT stupid. Kalinka, for example, was very intelligent. Smart enough that Protoman was put to the test when it came to the 64 squared game. Sure, he could have simply shut off every other thought process and figured out countless thousands of ways to defeat her in five moves, but he never once bothered. There was no challenge in it.

            Now, there was.

            The robot, dressed in a gray t-shirt and black leather jacket nudged his pawn forth, his eyes staring at her face through his sunglasses. The Treeborg park was unusually empty today for a change. Of course, maybe that was because of the chill bite in the air. A gray sky stood overhead, preventing even the smallest amount of the sun's heat from coming down on the Moscow beautification project.

            "Your move." He announced unnecessarily. Kalinka batted her thin eyelashes once, then threw back a loose strand of her blond hair that had come down on her eyes. There was definitely something on her mind, the prototype decided…she seemed more preoccupied with something today. She usually played better than this.

            The young lady that was born from Sergei Cossack's loins crossed her legs underneath the table, out of nervousness rather than the cold. Everything today had gone so well, but for her, it all boiled down to this one moment.

            All these past nine years…Blues, Protoman, had always been there. Somehow, he kept coming back to her, despite the fact he was, according to the rest of his family, a loner who didn't stick around much.

            And now it came to this…

            She pulled back the wandering sleeve of her light blue knitted sweater that had decided to creep onto her hand's wrist and reached for the board. She pushed her knight two squares left and one forward…but didn't draw her hand back yet. She couldn't yet. Not while her heart felt so weak and the world smelled so hazy, when her body felt cold and hot at the same time. _Breathe, Kalinka…Come on, breathe…_

_            She exhaled and drew in a fresh breath, then lifted her head up and stared at Protoman._

            "Blues?"

            "Da', Kalinka?" Blues asked, humoring her with a touch of her native tongue. Kalinka smiled nervously at the reference and almost gave up there. But a part of her still screamed for her to push on. So she did.

            "How long have we known each other?" She managed to squeak. _Oh, GREAT. Come on, clear your head, you stupid girl…having your voice give out on you now is not an option!_

_            "Ten years now thereabouts, isn't it?" Protoman answered back. She nodded her head weakly. "Yes. Ten years now…Ever since…Well, you know." He continued meekly, not wanting to finish with 'ever since Wily kidnapped you and I saved you by dragging you through the Siberian wilderness'. "Why do you bother asking? This is something you know by heart, isn't it?"_

            "I suppose." Kalinka admitted, finding strength in the fact her voice had grown stronger. Finally, she released her slender finger's grip from the knight and pulled her hand back. _Your move, my knight…_

_            Protoman mulled over his options for a few more moments, then ruffled at his head of black hair and readjusted his glasses. "You know, everything's been so quiet recently. I mean, Wily hasn't done anything in months…" He reached down and nudged his queen forward two spaces. "I want to say he's given up, but considering his track record I can't give that statement more than a passing glance."_

            "Don't worry. If he comes back, you and Mega Man will defeat him." Kalinka said, blushing a little at the tone that seeped into her voice. _God, Kalinka…you're like an open book at times. You take any longer and he'll figure it out just by watching your body language…_

_            "But I had a reason for asking you that question." Kalinka continued. In response to his queen's new position, she brought her other knight to bear. Her king was now only protected by a fringe of pawns…__No sense holding back now. You can't. Just lay all your cards down, girl. Just tell him!! _

            "Oh?" Blues pondered. He hesitated on his next move and leaned back in his seat. "And what, praytell mistress Kalinka, was that reason?"

            Kalinka had to shut her eyes for a moment, to quiet the fluttering ache inside her chest. But she finally opened her eyes and nodded, standing up from the board.

            "You've been a part of my life for ten years now, Blues. And in that time, you have been one of the few that actually bothered to get to know me, to get close to me." She smoothed out her blue sweater and long red skirt. A wind blew by, causing her to shiver briefly. But she fought against the urge to put on her heavy winter coat. She wasn't trying to stay warm. She had a more important goal on this gray day.

            "For that reason, I know that you have at least some feelings for me. But you're not the only one, Blues. It's taken me ten years to know this, ten years to finally have it sink in, but I now know why you are the only robot I truly get along with." 

            Behind his glasses, Protoman blinked a few times, wondering just what she was getting at. But he said nothing, allowing the Russian girl to finish her statement. Something about it seemed to ward off any sort of interruption. Still, he dreaded its coming.

            "And do you know why that is, Blues?" Kalinka continued, slowly moving next to him and sitting down beside him. He looked up into her face, and she looked down into his. "It's because I love you."

            **_Oh, please no…Please, don't say that…_**

**_            "Kal…"_**

            "Let me finish." She exclaimed, lifting a hand up and covering his mouth. Her eyes were shining now with the beginnings of tears. All her fears about the moment vanished away, because now she was in it. Was a part of it. "It was you who saved me from my death. It was you who rocked me to sleep those cold nights on the trip back. It was you who protected me from death, time and time again. It was you who sang to me and talked to me and comforted me when no one else could. Blues, you are the man I love. The man I will always love."

            Protoman opened his mouth, shut it, then opened and shut it again. He shut his eyes and shook his head, dropping his chin down to his chest. He mumbled something then, which Kalinka couldn't hear.

            "What was that?"

            "You can't love me." Blues finished sadly.

            His reply dropped like a stone in calm waters. It utterly destroyed Kalinka's state of mind.

            "Blues…"

            "No, this time let ME finish." Protoman answered back. His voice was firm, but also cracking from the effort. "Kalinka, you can't love me. I'm a robot, and you're a human. You can't 'love' a robot…not the way you love a human. Christ, any shot you'd have at reproduction would get thrown out the window!"

            "I don't care about having children, I don't care about carrying on the family line!" Kalinka protested desperately now, still clinging to the broken shards of her fairy tale dream. "All I want is you, Blues!"

            "We age differently, Kalinka." Blues argued again. "Twenty, thirty years from now I'll still look the same. But you'll have grown old…to spend a lifetime with me is just ridiculous. You'll only get older, I'll still be me. One day, you would become resentful of that. I know it."

            "Even if it is just for one short human lifetime, the dream can still exist!"

            "It can't." Protoman croaked. Kalinka's face mutated into a hurt and snarling creature.

            "LIAR!! You're just afraid to admit your feelings…admit it, you feel the same!!"

            "I have to." Protoman echoed. "First Law of Robotics: A robot cannot harm, or through inaction, allow harm to come to a human being. If I don't follow that prerogative, I DIE." Blues stood up and looked evenly at her. "Is that what you want, Kalinka? A lover who can only love you to prevent you from suffering harm? A forced relationship? If you pursue this, you'll do nothing more than enslave me. Because that's exactly what I'll become, Kalinka. I won't be the free spirit you see and love before you. I'll become a hollow shell of who I once was, bonded to you only by the immutable First Law and the need to prevent damage to you."

            Kalinka's lower lip quivered. But even as his words sank in, a part of her rebelled against the truths they offered.

            "Blues…" 

            There, the robot reached a hand up to his face. And he did something he'd almost never done in his entire life. Very few times had this particular action been performed.

            He took off his glasses.

            "Look into my eyes, Kalinka." Protoman said, keeping his blue irises from dancing about as he restrained his emotions. "Through them, you'll know the truth. The truth I'm telling you."

            It shone in his blue eyes. The utter belief he held in his words that he was right, that it could not be. Somehow, Kalinka had known all along. She had just never been willing to accept it. Until the moment he had finally told her no, had finally refused her, she simply brushed aside the reality.

            _You do this to prevent harm from coming to me…but don't you know that you're breaking my heart??_

_            "It hurts now." Blues muttered quietly. "I know it does. But if you kept this up, it would only hurt more later. A broken heart is far better than a shattered one, Kalinka. If it's broken, you can at least pull it back together." _

            Kalinka looked down at him, her own eyes glistening with tears now shed out of loss and hurt feelings.

            "Blues, I can't…I just can't…"

            _I can't stop loving you…_

_            "This can't go on, Kalinka. It's not healthy and it can't happen. For…"_

_            Kalinka uttered a choked sob and escaped out of the park, her winter coat in hand. Blues let his eyes trail her a while longer, then slipped his sunglasses back on._

            There were times he wished he could cry like humans could. They threw it around so freely…only robots like him could be so envious of the power of tears.

            But Kalinka had run off before Blues had finished his last sentence. So as he turned away from the sight of the fleeing girl and back to the abandoned chess game, he finished it.

            "For me, Kalinka. Not you. Humans can rebuild their hearts. I can't. Perhaps I could love you…but then what would happen on the day you left me?? It couldn't happen, Kalinka. Death would not let it happen."

            The prototype of Rockman shut his eyes and tightened his left hand into a ball. 

            **_In the end…maybe we just hide our true feelings behind excuses._**

            He reached down and moved his queen into the interior defense ring of Kalinka's pawns…

            "Checkmate."

            Kalinka lay there in her bed, blinking her teary eyes and staring at the ceiling.

            It didn't matter how many layers of blankets she put on her bed. She still felt how cold it had been that day in 2085…the day when Blues had rebuked her feelings.

            She got up from the sheets and walked over to her nightstand, her light blue nightgown tickling her ankles. The glass of water left by Bright Man was still there. She didn't reach for it.

            After her confession to Blues, Kalinka had never seen him again. Only a few months later, Blues had died like all the others at the hands of Wily's final creation—A Demon that years later, was given the name Zero.

            There had never been closure in that aspect of her life. Years later, while Sergei Cossack withered away in the Citadel's lower levels, Kalinka had tried to integrate back into the world. That had utterly failed. She knew too much, was too embittered by her life to be pulled into the shallow existence that plagued humanity in the time before the age of reploids.

            Of course, after the discovery of Mega Man X, or more precisely, the announcement of that discovery late in 2117, Sergei Cossack had decided along with his robots that perhaps it was time to 're-open' their doors. At least it would bring some much needed money back into the Citadel…keeping the place running was no easy task. 

            Kalinka hadn't liked it then anymore than she had liked robots in the first place…But her father had frowned at her then.

            _"Damnit, Kalinka! I'm an old man now, well past my prime. Just how else am I to provide for you, for them?"_

_            **"What do you mean, provide for THEM?! Your robots, father? Just why in the Hell would you have to provide for them? They're ageless, they don't have worries like you and I do…"**_

**_"Kalinka…" Sergei had said then, eyes hurt and brimming with tears._**

_            Even in his final hours of life, Sergei had never heard Kalinka say something he had to have wanted to hear for years._

            And now it was too late.

            Blues was dead. Her father, Sergei Cossack was dead. And all she had left was this castle, and the robots that lived in it. All her life, Kalinka had been caught up in questions she'd never answered, conflicts she'd never resolved. And because of that, because of that lack of closure, every loss always hit her hard.

            She'd nearly lost Pharaoh Man not long ago. And that was what scared her. 

            "Times change. And if you don't change with them…you're lost in the dust." She whispered quietly. 

            She slipped on a robe and walked out of her door, looking down the hall. There was Pharaoh Man, on patrol once more.

            "Phare?" The robot turned his head in reply, then darted over next to her.

            "Yes, Kalinka?" He asked, blinking his robotic optics. Kalinka stared at him for a long while, then bent down and gave him a hug. Pharaoh Man blinked in surprise, but returned it. "What's this for, sis?"

            "For a memory." She replied, taking a long breath in. "You're all I have left now, Phare. The only one who came back from death…"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Blues…my father…" She whimpered, dropping to her knees as she tightened her grasp on the Robot Master. "I never got to tell them how I truly felt. They both died before I could…only you came back." She pulled back from him and nodded. "Phare, I'm sorry for all the hurtful things I've ever said to you. It's taken me over thirty years to realize the truth…" 

            "What truth?"

            "That perhaps I didn't hate robots…as much as I hated the people who used them." She looked at him. "It was Wily who made those Robot Masters that kidnapped me in 2075. It was Wily that made the Demon…the Demon that killed Blues. And in some way, I hated my father, because he made you, and after the Fourth Robot Rebellion put all his energies into helping you." 

            Kalinka shook her head. "Just know that I love you Phare. You're the only family I have now. You and the others…we're my father's children, all of us. Whether we're made of flesh and blood or silicon and steel. And I was wrong to ever think otherwise."

            "I care for you too, sis." Phare answered back. The aging beauty nodded her head once.

            "I know." She bowed, then stepped back inside of her room and shut the door.

            Phare blinked a few times, then headed back down the hallway, a slow contented smile creeping on his face.

            "Now the healing begins." For Kalinka, at least. Phare's process was still underway. But for now…

            He had to go down to the Fourth Ring and keep an eye on the ops center.

            "State your name."

            "Signas." Came the unfeeling reply of the towering reploid. He sat across a long table from three gentlemen, all a part of the GDC. He recalled their names, of course…minor parts of the larger whole. Nobody in the triad sitting in front of him was of great importance. Not like Emilius Cristoph.

            They all looked at Signas, not in disgust like Signas had found some did. They looked at him with eyes that indicated thought and hawkish planning.

            "Signas, do you know why you were created?" The middle aged man on the right asked. 

            The towering reploid shook his head and the military style cap atop of it.

            "Well, let us remind you." The one in the middle picked up. "You were designed to be the most intelligent reploid ever. Your CPU is the most precise ever built of any reploids'. But most importantly, you were designed to serve the interests of the Global Defense Council, which represents the world." Signas nodded his head, but said nothing. The final man leaned forward a bit, propping himself up on his arms.

            "You were made to be a negotiator, a thinker. A planner. The perfect diplomat. Concise and to the point. You were designed to help this world, Signas. To help this world in a way no other reploid before has."

            "What is to be my first mission?" Signas asked, face unblinking.

            A manila envelope was slid across the large meeting table to him. Quickly, Signas opened it up and peered at the contents.

            "One of our liason officers has retired. He was our official connection to both Repliforce and the Maverick Hunters…"

            "Of course now, Repliforce is for all purposes annihilated." Signas summarized. "Less than 10% of their former strength now remains, and they have been placed under direct GDC control."

            It was the truth, of course. Even with the final news that the events leading up to Sky Lagoon's crash to the city below, as well as the massive Maverick Dragonoid had all been Sigma's doing once again, the simple fact had remained after the fact that Repliforce had reacted rashly. Jet Stingray was the worst example of that overreaction, with his destruction of the massive harbor port city so many humans had called home.

            "Yes. I suppose he felt some responsibility for what occurred…the fool." The GDC official on the left mused bitterly. "In any case, the events of the Repliforce Uprising…"

            "The Fourth Maverick Uprising…"

            "In any case, Signas." The center official snapped, chastising the reploid for speaking out of turn. "You are to assume his role, as our official liason with the Maverick Hunters."

            "As you wish it." Signas bowed. They dismissed him, and he left.

            Signas blinked a few times, then shook his head suddenly. He'd lost all track of time…now he'd taken to dreaming of the past, eh? Perhaps just being around these Maverick Hunters was changing him.

            The LCD clock display beside the glowing computer monitor blinked a steady 10:47. A.M. The next day. Which meant it was June 25th. And time now for action to be taken. He tapped his wrist's comm.

            "Commanders X and Zero, please report to Signas's office." It was basic enough, and betrayed nothing of his true intentions. That was one part of Signas's attitude he hadn't changed since his GDC days. That indifference in his voice.

            It only took the two Maverick Hunters around four minutes to arrive. They walked in the door without knocking…an action that Signas had to remember they were still used to doing. For 13 years, Cain had probably allowed them to come and go as they pleased. That wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

            X looked collected; Zero looked mad. In other words, the two were about normal. The both of them shared a quiet repugnance for Signas.

            Well, that's what he had to change now, wasn't it…

            "Since my arrival, I have been met with almost constant defiance and anger. I believe a part of this reason is that I was forced upon you all to replace James Cain, the man responsible for the creation of the reploid race as a whole and also your trusted friend. Also, I am beginning to realize that my early actions were at the time, rash and unnecessary." Signas stepped out from behind his desk and tucked his hands behind his back. "As of this moment, I wish to apologize for that."

            That made the two blink and stare at him oddly.

            "Just what sort of a game are you pulling, Signas?" Zero growled. The General of the Maverick Hunters shook his head calmly.

            "No games, Zero. I am merely trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the relationship between the rest of this base and me. Because that is the only way we'll be in any shape to take on the Mavericks. If we work together. Realize my experiences are vastly different than yours. I was trained to be level headed, without emotion in my choices. You two, and the rest of the Hunters have obviously had a different set of values instilled into you. You have no problem using emotions, and for the longest time have relied on them. This is where the difference lies. I need to adjust to you, and you need to adjust to some of my habits. I can't change everything about how this place works. I apologize for my attempts at even trying. I can only move on." Signas stepped closer to the two. "I know all too well who runs this place, who the others look up to. They look to you. And so now I look to you. Will you forgive me? And will you work with me??"

            X and Zero looked at each other for a moment, and then at Signas.

            "So you really want to make a difference?" X asked tentatively. "You're willing to put aside your viewpoints and rely on our own experiences to help guide you?"

            "Yes." Signas nodded calmly. He extended his hand. "So will you help me?"

            X reached for the reploid's hand…but Zero beat him to it, grasping the reploid's paw firmly.

            The Crimson Hunter stared Signas down.

            "So you're serious? You won't change how the Hunters work, or how the MHHQ operates? You'll let it stay how old man Cain ran things?"

            "I believe you made it quite clear I didn't know my place in matters such as those." Signas said, the corner of his mouth curling up. Zero smirked at that.

            "Guess I did. But you won't mess things up?"

            "Did you notice the door opened for you automatically? I disabled the lock on it. Anyone can come and go as they please. I believe that's how Cain would have wanted it." Signas inferred. "I cannot change how the Hunters operate. You have your own styles, your own methods. The GDC was wrong to think that I would have the power to change that. But there are two things I can do that will aid you."

            "And just what are those?"

            "One, I can keep the Hunters how they are, by getting the GDC off of your back again." Signas said. Both X and Zero brightened up at that.

            "And two?" Zero asked, tightening his grip on Signas's hand. Signas smiled, an earnest smile that both Hunters had not thought possible with the stoic reploid. Zero began to clench his teeth as Signas's hand tightened around his with even more power.

            "Two; let me use my rational brain to give the Hunters a plan of attack that works." Signas released his grip on Zero's hand, and the Crimson Hunter pulled it back, still wincing. 

            X looked at Signas.

            "A plan, huh? You mean, we take the offensive for a change? I like that. The trick is, will they fall for it?"

            "They will." Signas assured them. "One thing I know about the Mavericks under Sigma after studying the Uprisings and all other major incidents over the past thirteen years…they're all too predictable."

            Dolph Reach opened his eyes. Instantly, he was attacked by a thousand pinpricks of visual stimulation and was sorry he'd done so.

            He was floating in some sort of green liquid…

            _Aaw, shit…not this crap again. The rest of them had to drag me back by my fins, I'll bet._

_            The light in the room dimmed, and the feeling of weightlessness over all of the Maverick General's body slowly subsided. He realized, as more of his mental faculties came back online, that the restorative tubule he was in was slowly draining the green regenerative fluid out. He ran a self-diagnostic._

            **All systems at 100%. Optimum performance levels. Addition of TitaniTefloAlloy wristbands…accepted.**

**            His feet settled onto the bottom of the capsule and stood erect. A gust of wind blew through the capsule, siphoning away the last particles of wetness left. The capsule opened with a slow hiss, and Dolph used one of his hands to steady himself as he stepped out.**

            "Welcome back to the land of the living." Came a dry, but satisfied voice. Dolph blinked a few times more, then let his eyes adjust. The lights began to bring themselves back up to full intensity. Kazok was staring down at him, arms folded. "Although I'd suggest next time you try to avoid getting those hands of yours sliced off."

            Dolph stared at his hands. A shimmering gleam of metal on the upper portion of his hand caught his eye, and he found that it went all the way back, providing a solid guard against any sort of slicing. An entire ring went around his wrists.

            "What's all this?" Dolph asked, lifting his paws up backwards so Kazok could see them. The black haired Maverick Leader shrugged his shoulders easily.

            "Insurance. That stuff's TitaniTefloAlloy. Does a terrific job of deflecting plasma bullets and minimal semi-charged blasts, and more importantly, beam saber slashes. With any luck, you'll never have to worry about getting your hands chopped off again." 

            Dolph made an excited chittering noise and clenched one of his hands into a fist. 

            "I like those odds." Kazok smirked a bit.

            "Thought you might, Dolph. Now come on. We have to get you back to the others. Still more training to be done."

            "What kind of training?"

            "For one, now I have to show you how to use those wristbands of yours effectively." Kazok replied back, priming his Buster and letting it hand at his side. "As if you didn't already know it by now, Dolph, I made a promise to every last one of you that as long as we stuck together, we'd all make it back alive. Well, I don't intend to start failing on that now." Kazok tilted his head slightly so the bottlenosed Maverick could see one of his eyes. "You with me?"

            "Until the cold, bitter freakin' end!!" Dolph announced steadfastly. Kazok clucked his approval and kept walking on. But he didn't let Dolph stare at the uncertainty in his black eyes, which now shone with self-control and not the Virus's power.

            _The end is coming soon, Dolph…I only hope to whatever power exists that we all survive it._

            Bristol was not one taken to self doubt all that much. In her past life with MI9, she had been confident in her abilities, her skills, and her genius. In the life that followed at the MHHQ, she had trusted in Bastion, in her love, and her purpose.

            Both would have gone fine by themselves. But Bristol had had the misfortune to have two methods of existence. And there could be no balance between them. Especially not now. 

            While her body slept and recuperated, her mind scampered about under its own accord and fear. Under its own paranoia, delusions, and lies, Bristol had provided the raw materials for her prison. MI9 had built it.

            So she hung there, in that realm between the waking world and death, suspended on a cold stone wall by chains that dug into her wrists, dull eyes watching the void ahead of her unfolding into madness. 

            _Madness I am responsible for creating, she thought with what sanity had been left to her._

            "Oh, come now Bristol." A crackling, dull voice rasped cheerfully. "You've got to realize that at some point, your race was doomed. Even in religious texts, the tales of races created by their masters that grew too strong, too self-confident in their abilities are prevalent. They rebelled against their creators as well, you know. And do you know what happened to them, dear Bristol? They were destroyed. Such was the fate of all then, as it is now. The reploid race was doomed from the moment Sigma started the First Maverick Uprising."

            She lifted her chin off of her neck and stared at her tormentor. It was a figure shrouded in tattered rags, a death shroud that had long since lost any beauty. Like somebody had buried the garment underground and left it to decompose for countless hours of time before pulling it back up to wear. It held a worn down scythe in one hand hidden in ragged cloth, looking for all the world like the reaper of legend.

            "Oh, they were doomed all right. As doomed as you. But you, dear Bristol, hold all the blame for a more immediate demise. Without you, without you creating the Berserker Beacons, humanity and reploid kind would have gone as it is now for handfuls of years. But now…now, that timeline has been shattered by the coming of an element even God himself could not have forseen. The efforts of one naïve little inventor, the woman who would doom the world."

            "You put guilt upon me I already suffer." Bristol murmured quietly, unable to blink as she stared at the pseudo-grim reaper before her. "Just how much more do you think you can add to this Hell? Kill me and be done with it."

            The grim reaper figure before Bristol mulled over that for a while, then reached a hand out of the shroud…skeletal, obviously. But what frightened Bristol was that it was a metallic hand…the hand of a reploid, without the synthskin, glove, or wiring and blood tubules.

            Slowly, but deliberately the hand came up and pushed the hood of the death shroud back, revealing the face underneath.

            Numbly, Bristol stared back at the face that mirrored hers horribly.

            "Guilt you have…but pain and suffering, the penance for your actions?? You do not. No, death will not come yet. Not until I am done." The skeletal Bristol answered back. Loose flaps of synthskin dangled loosely from the metallic skull, in other places it was missing entirely. The blond hair on her dark doppelganger had fallen out in some portions, combing with all the other facets of her design in a vision that was truly horrific.

            "Come on, Bristol. Say it." The chameleon murmured, cracking a grin with its metallic skull. "Say what you yourself have confirmed time and time again. It's my fault. It's my fault." Still, Bristol remained silent. The demonic impostor rubbed at its chin for a moment before chuckling. "Even worse, you have doomed Willow. And you have given Bastion nothing but a troubled future to look forward to…one where he'll be pitted against humanity." 

            The specter turned about and waved a hand in front of the opposite wall, causing the stone to ripple and shimmer. As if water took its place, a dull mirror filled Bristol's sight.

            "Few ever get to see the fruit of their labors be born into the world and appreciated, Bristol." The specter chuckled lowly, turning about and motioning a skeletal hand in front of the makeshift mirror. "But now, let me show you of what will be. What will come because of your genius, your existence." The mirror trembled for a moment, filling itself with darkness…

            And then darkness gave way to clarity and vision. Heart aching from a sudden pain, Bristol could do nothing as the horrible vision asserted itself…

            The humans in the hovertransport crouched lowly as they checked and double checked their weapons. Power packs were tested, magrifles reloaded, beam sabers ignited and extinguished. Dressed in an amalgamation of traditional fare body armor, stranger cloaks and robes, and low-EM shield emitters, the humans looked prepared for anything, yet tense at the same time.

            The commander at the front of the bus turned around and ran his eyes over the men in front of him. His uniform was more traditional military, clearly marked with the rank insignias on his shoulder lapels. He needed only clear his throat once, and every person aboard quieted down and stared up expectantly. Only the low engine thrum of the hovertransport made any sound then.

            "Team, the GDC has sent us on perhaps our most dangerous…and last…mission ever. In the past, we've dealt with Mavericks from traditional areas. But this time, we're facing trained Mavericks. Ex-Hunters."

            "God…not HIM!!" One young woman gasped, her face blanching easily. Every person on the transport tensed up at her statement, instantly looking worried. The commander shook his head easily.

            "No, we're not facing Mega Man X. The GDC hasn't been able to find him yet…he's somehow managed to remain hidden from every last one of our sorties. It's like he doesn't even exist anymore. But we are facing highly trained ex-Hunters. Our data indicates that this particular group is an amalgamation of scraps, composed primarily of what used to be the Lightning Strike Unit. So no. We're not facing the one, but we are facing well-trained warriors this time around. So be on your guard, all. Mistakes here will cost us all dearly. We'll only get one chance at this, so make it good. We have them confined in an anti-warp EM field around what used to be New Tokyo and the MHHQ, so they can't run in the traditional fashion. But realize the odds we're up against. Even SIGNAS is working with them, according to our sources." He stared around the carrier. "Is the mission objective clear, all??"

            "SIR!!" Came the unison response. The commander had no smile to offer. He merely nodded his head.

            "In that case, may God be with us." He tipped his hat and sighed, then turned back around to the driver. "Let's go."

            "Roger that!!" Came the enthusiastic reply.

            The hovertransport powered up its boosters even more and rapidly skimmed across the many kilometers of sea between Cornus Island and the main island of Japan. 

            Now there was no turning back.

            "Incoming." Gavin said wearily, accessing the MHHQ's radarscope data. Signas was by him in moments, firm hand placed on the back of the ruined chair. The War Room was darker than before. Of course, considering the fact that New Tokyo had become a ruined shell of itself and the MHHQ was fast running short of its power supplies, they had had to cut back on certain measures.

            "How soon?" Came Signas's icy reply. Gavin blinked a few times, then tapped the keyboard.

            "An hour…two hours at most. And we can't escape. They've used their satellites to erect an EM anti-warp bubble over the region." Signas shook his head.

            "They never give up, do they?"

            "Can you blame them, sir?" Gavin scoffed. "As far as the world knows, all reploids are now a danger. Even the Hunters."

            "You don't need to remind me of what happened in the past…" Signas mumbled, rubbing at his wrist and the blinking device that was attached to it. "If it weren't for Willow's Anti-Tremblers, we'd have long ago perished as well."

            _But in the process…we've merely doomed the end of our race to a slow and dwindling whimper. _

            Dully, Signas nodded his head and pulled away from Gavin. "Who do we have available for defense?"

            "Bastion, Willow, Doan, Dash Blade, Kazok Gravor…A few others, but those are the main power players." Gavin mumbled. He looked up and shook his head. "This is gonna be the one, isn't it sir?"

            "The one what." Signas replied back quietly.

            "The one where the humans finally kill us." Gavin snorted bitterly. "The great and mighty reploid race…forever extinguished because of a plot instigated by a group whose roots go back even beyond the time of the Robot Rebellions."

            "Don't think like that, son." A new voice spoke up forcefully. Signas and Gavin turned about in the quiet War Room to find themselves staring at Julius Kinnian Horn, the brilliant but slightly misguided weapons designer who had crossed paths with the Hunters because of his doomed group URFAWP. His Hawaiian shirt had seen better days, but the sparkle in his normal eye was still as bright as ever. "You seem to forget one thing about us. We were made to be like them. We have their streak of self-preservation, as well as the Laws." He shrugged his shoulders. "In any case, should I warn the troops?"

            "Do it." Signas ordered. Horn gave a half-hearted salute and tottered back out, maneuvering his way over the rubble that still hadn't been cleared away yet. Gavin shook his head and turned back to the monitor.

            "Three hovertransports…and each of those can hold up to twenty men. That's sixty, Signas. And our numbers are barely half that anymore."

            Signas didn't bother answering. He let the room's quiet speak for him.

            _Journal Entry, __November 21st, 2132__. __4:27 P.M__, __Central MHHQ__ Time._

_            It's been a year and a half now since 'The Cleansing'. I use MI9's term for that statement because that is just what it caused. Ice Beacon was a complete success, despite all our efforts…We weren't able to stop them in time._

_Bristol__ died in her sleep. I suppose that the damage caused by her torture in the now destroyed MI9 HQ was too intense…And yet Hazil continues to insist that she should have lived—That is, when he isn't curled up in a corner babbling like a child. Her loss proved too much for him, and The Cleansing didn't help matters much either. Perhaps in the end…perhaps she felt so guilty that her subconscious no longer wanted to live. Because it's largely her fault. She was the one who created the Berserker Beacons, the technology that MI9 used in Ice Beacon…_

_            We lost Allegro, Pharaoh Man, and Wycost in that failed attempt to stop MI9's plans. We mourned them then…but now, we mourn for ourselves and consider the dead lucky. They died in pain, yes…but they didn't have to face the Hell that followed._

_I suppose for anyone who might ever conceivably read this, I might as well list what we now know. 'The Madness', as humanity and the GDC calls it, the event where every reploid on Earth went berserk, was not caused by the Mavericks. No, Sigma could have never conceived of a plan as grand as the pure human mind did…What caused The Madness was Ice Beacon. A large satellite dish built out of solid ice, at the heart of __Antarctica__, Ice Beacon managed to get its signal out before we could stop it. The UBF. It escaped us, and then we were all doomed._

_            Sigma and most of the Mavericks were done in early on…they were too visible, too readily available to blame. But killing them did not solve a blessed thing…it changed nothing. If the world had remained as it was, killing Sigma would have solved everything. But not in the fractured reality we exist in now._

_            Horn paused quietly and stared at the hole in the exterior wall. A dull grayness had fallen over New Tokyo again…it seemed to come more often than usual, as did the rain. This time, the clouds were content to hover there oppressively, a constant reminder of the void beyond. Eventually, he finished and kept walking to the makeshift barracks._

            _Of course, the GDC and the entire world found itself unable to ignore the threat any longer. Reploids were all declared Maverick…even those within the Maverick Hunters. Not even Signas, the GDC's golden boy escaped accusation. _

_            We were all ordered destroyed. But X and Zero took a chance then, a chance we still find ourselves questioning even now. Coming in peace, they marched into the GDC's regular session and tried to plead our case._

_            They didn't return. As far as we know, they're dead. Or if they aren't, they were driven into hiding. It's funny…in the time when we need those two the most, they're nowhere to be found. 'Superman doesn't live here anymore' perhaps rings true now._

_            The humans abandoned New __Tokyo__ quickly…once X and Zero vanished from view, the Hunters panicked and bunkered in. The mighty gem of the orient is now nothing more than a ghost town, one that the scraps of reploids remaining now inhabit like the survivors of the Apocalypse. New __Tokyo__ is perhaps the only surviving haven left to our kind anymore. The Purges worldwide saw to that. And only New __Tokyo__ remains because the Maverick Hunters and even the Mavericks remained steadfast and vigilant, protecting their own kind._

_            Perhaps that is the humorous part. In the age we left behind, the age where some things still made sense, Maverick Hunters fought with Mavericks and humans sat back on their laurels. Once Sigma was destroyed, and once X and Zero vanished from sight, both parties found themselves with one single thought on their minds; survival. Previous allegiances didn't matter anymore. Not with humans screaming for the extinction of our kind. No, in the end, we are all reploids. And we need all the help we can get._

_            In the beginning, there were hundreds of us. HUNDREDS. Now…_

_            Only handfuls of surviving civilian reploids remain in New __Tokyo__ anymore. And the warriors?? At last count, there were only twenty nine of us. And I'm the 29th._

_            Just minutes ago, I walked into the War Room and found a dismal vision staring back at me. Three hovertransports…sixty able reploid killers on their way. The MHHQ lies in disrepair, and is low on power and resources. My bank accounts were frozen and appropriated, and even if they hadn't been, nobody would have sold me anything. The reploids now live on borrowed time._

_            We didn't want this. None of us did. But MI9…damn them, damn them all…They made it impossible for humanity to see us as anything but a danger. It was thanks to them that we are doomed. No…_

_            No, it is thanks to __Bristol__ that we are doomed. Damn her. I hope in whatever Hell she occupies, she is suffering and crying for us. Like the mythical Prometheus, who was chained to a rock and unable to escape as a crow ate his liver day after day, I hope __Bristol__ suffers an equal penance for what she has done._

_            The blood of the innocents…It lies on her hands. Of course, none of us ever say that. Bastion still cares for her, still loves her. Even in death, she remains his angel of mercy. _

_            And not just for Bastion's sake, perhaps the final figure we can all rally behind. For our own. Crying over the past will do us little good now. It will not help us, or make us stronger. _

_            Perhaps this is the day. The day when it will all end. When humanity will at last kill the last of us, raise their banners high and shout that from here to eternity, they are free of the robots, free of the reploids. Free of all intelligence but their own._

_            But then, I have studied history. And what I have learned…_

_            If it hadn't been for the Mavericks, humanity would have destroyed all reploids._

_            If it hadn't been for all the reploids…Humanity would have destroyed itself._

_            The Wars of 2040…the War of 2090…all the evidence is there. Even if they do destroy us, it will not help them. Their destructive natures will see their end. With the reploids' help, perhaps the inhabitants of Earth might have endured._

_            Without us…humanity will turn against itself. This is fate. This is destiny._

_            And soon, there will come a time when we are gone. When humans are gone. When the cities will be crumbled into sand and the planet will shake our monuments and symbols of existence off like fleas on a dog._

_            It is said God made a rainbow after Noah's flood, a promise to mankind that he would never again destroy them._

_            Humanity created the Second Rainbow after the Wars of 2040, as a symbolic promise that it would never destroy itself._

_            But now…Now, none of that matters._

_            We're all doomed._

_            All we are…is dust in the wind._

_            "End recording." Horn mumbled. A message flashed in the corner of his eye. ****__SAVE? Horn told it yes. He always did…it was his lucky momento, a good luck charm that he would always make it back alive. But this time, the action felt hollow. _

            He reached the barracks, though. What had remained of the Rec Room, the expansive facility that hordes of Hunters had once trained in. It seemed emptier now. As empty as he did.

            Kazok and Doan walked up to him, eyes dull. Kazok because he wasn't at maximum power, and Doan because…

            _The death of Cleo hit him hard. God, it had to. Losing __Bristol__ nearly made Bastion go insane for a while._

_            And yet, 'The Ghost Wind' remained eerily silent, face letting nothing out._

            "Where's Bastion?" Horn asked quietly.

            "In the city." Kazok answered back. "Why?"

            "The killers are back." Horn replied. Kazok's eyes darkened.

            "How many?"

            "Three hovertransports full…we estimate sixty. Find him and get him. We need every man we can get for this one." Horn replied.

            Doan chewed on his lower lip. Kazok said nothing. Horn merely breathed. Finally, Kazok nodded.

            "All right, I'm on it." His gravicrystals popped free and began to rotate around him…they weren't nearly as polished as they had been at one point. The supply shortages had seen to that.

            Kazok took off, pushing aside the piece of debris they had used to cover the gaping hole in the barrack's ceiling that had been caused by GDC shelling some months ago.

            Dash Blade tottered over next to them and shook her head.

            "This one's going to be bad, isn't it." She stated flatly, sounding as if she already knew the answer to the question she had never asked.

            Horn could only nod his head slowly.

            New Tokyo had once glimmered like a diamond in the darkness. Humans and reploids had coexisted peacefully, and the neon lights had made it almost impossible for anyone to tell night from day.

            But that had been then. And this was now. A far different now. Slowly, Bastion maneuvered his boots over the piles of mildly dangerous rubble as he made his way into the somehow intact main hospital. Intact, but still as dead as anything else here. Most hospitals had the smell of antiseptic wash, of sterile floors.

            Here, the only smell that pervaded the air was death. Like everything else in New Tokyo anymore, only corpses and shells remained. 

            "Hazil??" He called out warily. The hallway whistled with the wind that the outside blew in through the structural cracks, offering nothing but a hollow response.

            "Come on, old friend. I know you're in here somewhere." 

            Finally, The Desert Fire found who he was looking for. The clattering of a chair and bedpans off in one room down the long hallway, the door cracked and letting out the barest sliver of light.

            "So there you are." Bastion murmured quietly. He walked the rest of the distance and poked his head inside…

            Empty. No, Hazil wasn't in the empty, dead room. But there was the large hole in the wall that led to the outside. Bastion's eyes narrowed behind his helmet's pink tinted flight visor as he walked inside and wandered to the gaping wound. Outside, he caught the barest hint of a shadow as it went around a corner and disappeared.

            _Still wandering…He just can't ever stop, can he? Bastion shook his head for a moment, then jumped out of the hospital's jagged opening and fell down to the ground. Unlike Hazil, Bastion had the ability of flight, which he called upon as two majestic, but tarnished wings sprung free of their container underneath his arms. His rapid plummet slowed down until he hovered just above  the ground, wings flapping only because he felt the need to make them do so._

            The Angel's Advantage still performed as well now as it had on its very first mission. Only now, thanks to J.K. Horn, the wings drew their power directly from his microfusion generator, and not their own rechargeable battery supply. They'd had to do that change…eventually, the batteries had worn out, and they had had nothing to replace them with. Of course, they hadn't had much to replace anything in New Tokyo at all. 

            Bastion felt his eyes droop a little lower. "Guess I'd better find Hazil." Still hovering above the ground, Bastion proceeded to float around the corner the shadow had left for.

            The sky above remained gray, the only color it ever was anymore. A part of Bastion wondered if the humans on the main continent of Asia weren't trying to demoralize them by producing constant cloud cover. If so, it was working. For the past two months now, gray was all that had hovered over the dismal skies of Japan. If it was not darker still and moaning with powerful storms that the ruined buildings of New Tokyo no longer protected its doomed inhabitants from. 

            From the shadows of crumpled doorways and the corners of abandoned buildings, Bastion felt the eyes of all the remaining civilian reploids staring at him. Not staring out of fear or hatred or respect. But just staring…staring at the figure that represented the last glimmer of hope for their kind. Bastion took note of them, but didn't bother looking back. The last time he had done that, they'd scattered into the shadows out of fear.

            Grimly, he remembered a time when these streets had shone with the light of hope for all humans and reploids. And now…now, none of that remained. Instead, it was virtually all of the world's population, what was left of it anyhow, against the final scraps of the reploid race.

            Bastion slowed down, blinking his eyes a few times as a memory washed back over him. One where X had said something as he sat in tears.

            _"This isn't the reality that my father dreamed of…this can't be the one that was meant to be."_

            Of course, X and Zero had left not long after that, and never returned. Everyone that remained assumed the worst. Not even the greatest of their kind was above the purges of humanity.

            "You thinking again?" Came a gruff voice from behind the Desert Angel. Bastion blinked a few times, then swerved about. A tattered and slightly bemused Hazil stood there, tapping the side of his arm. The last year and a half hadn't been that terrific on Hazil either, but very little had changed physically. No, Bastion had to remind himself, it was mentally that the old medical reploid had been crushed.

            "And just what would I think about, you old coot?" Bastion queried back, not smiling, but letting the twinkle in his eye respond. Hazil shrugged and walked over to Bastion.

            "The past?" The medical reploid asked, eyes distant. Bastion held his tongue there. 

            A low wind blew by through the ruined street, ruffling Bastion's wild mess of hair. It had grown longer through the months, a part of the fact that he hadn't found the time or motivation to cut it back. Hazil remained stolid in the wind, still lost somewhere else.

            And that was how Hazil was anymore. Half the time…his mind lost to something else.

            "The past is a fun thing to look at anymore." Hazil continued, walking on. Bastion reluctantly followed. "Because that's the ironic part of the reploid race. We have a past. Just not a future." The medical reploid pulled out a medical scanner of some sort and motioned with a nod of his head. "Follow me…I've still got my rounds to attend to."

            "You still keep rounds?" Bastion murmured slowly. Hazil shrugged, not breaking his stride.

            "I've been trying to save lives almost every day of my life, Bastion. That's all I have left now. No Cain, no X or Zero, no Sigma…They're gone, Bastion. They're all gone. There's no distinction between right and wrong. The world's gone mad and taken every last one of us with it." 

            There was too much truth in those cold words, Bastion decided. The overlying truths that they'd relied on to stay sane and focused were all gone now. Which left two paths; bitterness and insanity.

            Hazil stopped at a nearby ruined building, knocking on the surprisingly still pristine door. 

            "Hazil??" Came the wary voice.

            "It's that time of the week again, Evinrude." Hazil said quietly.

            "So it is, so it is…Well, come on in." Came the aloof, but more relaxed female voice. Hazil blinked his eyes once, then turned to Bastion. 

            "You care to come inside?" 

            "No thanks." Bastion said with a small shrug. "I'll just wait out here until you get back." Hazil made no motion to indicate he'd even heard Bastion, or if he cared. The reploid simply slipped inside the door and left it propped open a bit.

            "And how are we doing today, Evin?" Hazil asked softly.

            "Better…your serum did the trick, all right."

            "I only wish there was more I was capable of, dear." Hazil answered back, sadness in his voice.

            Interest finally got the best of Bastion, and he slowly creaked the door open, only far enough so that he could stick his head in.

            The building's interior was lit by dim candles, the only source of light left to Earth's cursed race in the burned out city. What little power they were still able to manufacture had all gone to keeping the MHHQ running. Posters hung from the walls, tears from point to point. A bed stood off to one corner of the room, remarkably well kept. And sitting on it was a female reploid.

            _So that's Evinrude…_

_            She was sitting upright against the headboard, her lower torso covered up by a thick, scratchy blanket. Normal periwinkle blue body armor, smallish hands, sparkling blue eyes. Short brown hair was kept neatly tied back, and her face was a smile, even in the ruined state of affairs._

            "However, the serum only dealt with the immediate effects, Ev." Hazil continued. "You won't feel the pain anymore, that part of it is healed. But you'll never regain their use. I don't have the ability anymore to heal functionality. I can only dull pain anymore."

            Bastion blinked a few times. Hazil's voice grew sadder at that, almost croaking. His head dropped a bit.

            Evinrude smiled as only she could, reaching a hand up and caressing the side of the medical reploid's face. Tenderness and genuine trust shone in her blue optics.

            "Hazil, you have done all you can. Nobody could ask more. Not now, when easing pain is all that's left."

            "All that is left in my power…or all that is left to do?" Hazil murmured questioningly, tilting his gaze up and looking into those shining eyes Evinrude held.

            The vision of loveliness stared back into the face of the beaten, worn down, and utterly destroyed Hazil and gave him a quick kiss.

            "All that is needed." She finished, before he pulled himself up and kissed her again, deeply. 

            The blanket fell away from Evinrude's lap as she drew into Hazil's tender embrace. It was then that a stunned Bastion noticed that the female reploid truly was indebted to Hazil's care…

            She had no legs. The rough scars said it all. They'd been sliced off, probably in one of the attacks on New Tokyo. 

            _So perhaps Hazil has been recovered, in some small way…_

_            Bastion could easily remember a time not long ago when Hazil spent all his time in the ruined portions of the MHHQ's Medical Bay, rocking back and forth in a corner in the fetal position, babbling about all the people who had died under his care, who should have lived…_

            Bristol's had been the hardest for him to take. Bristol had died where no cause for death had existed. Where no direct physical cause could be blamed. Like a causal loop Hazil hadn't been able to escape, those first months after Bristol's passing and the success of Ice Beacon had made Hazil almost insane, searching for the cause, searching for his fault.

            Finally, Hazil had just up and left the MHHQ, and had wandered into the ruined New Tokyo like a hermit without his mission. But nobody at the MHHQ was particularly concerned about Hazil.

            And a week later, Kazok and Bastion had found Hazil in New Tokyo's ruined hospital. Even in his confused and tortured state of mind, the medical reploid Hazil still wandered to a place of healing. But Hazil had been adamant about one thing. _"Leave me be, Bastion. I've fought my battle for more than thirteen years now. And in the end, I lost. So just leave me alone. Let me be. Let me think. And when my day comes, let it come. There's nothing more I can do for anyone now. Nothing."_

_            But then, back when Hazil had said that and turned his back on them all, he didn't have the clairvoyance enough to realize that he could never stop. Not while there were those that suffered. _

            Bastion blinked a few times more, then stepped back lightly and shut the door.

            This wasn't his place anymore. Not here, in this ruined city, whose inhabitants knew and accepted that one day it would all end, that the dull mottled sky overhead would descend down and cover them all, forever wiping reploids from sight and memory of Earth.

            He hovered up into the air fifty feet, looking around and down. Reploids of all shape and size were found here, hovering around ignited piles of rubbish for heat, or simply finding solace in the void by being with one another.

            _In the end, Hazil has become one of them. The edge dwellers. The battle, the desire, the dream…those have all faded from mind and memory. For them, death is beyond. The only things worth keeping anymore are being together with those you care for, making those last moments count._

_            Some of the reploids below stood on the rooftops of the long abandoned buildings, standing and staring to the gray skies above. One of them, a green armored reploid looked up at Bastion with sad, quiet eyes, and for a brief moment, the Desert Angel felt that pang of sadness as he remembered. _

            "We still miss you, Wycost." He muttered, waving to the green reploid below. The figure nodded his head once, then walked back to the rooftop exit.

            But then Bastion saw another figure. One that didn't rest inside the city, but rather approached it from Mount Fuji. The Desert Angel blinked a few times, then frowned and scrutinized it closer.

            Behind him in midair, Kazok Gravor came to a slow hover, the once-Maverick's gravicrystals rotating around his waist.

            "Signas needs you back at base quick, Bastion. We've got trouble on the way…" 

            Bastion raised a hand up to silence Kazok. His now wide eyes could hardly believe what he saw.

            So many had been lost to them in the last year and a half. So many allies and friends.

            But** now one had returned. Bastion hovered down to the city's edge where the figure was dragging himself to, and a now stunned Kazok followed as well, upon noticing the newcomer for himself.**

            As the two flight-capable reploids came down and slowly descended at the city's edge, the traveler slowed his heavy-laden footsteps. He looked up, and let his weary blue/green optics blink at them both. A flash of recognition appeared in his eyes.

            "Bastion…" 

The Desert Angel shook his head at the Blue Bomber of 21XX.

            "Welcome back, X. We've missed you."

            Bastion had remained visibly planted in the Medical Bay, never once leaving Bristol's side since Hazil had emerged. Everyone else sympathized with him, of course. Even Willow, who was for all purposes, the greenhorn in the group. Still, now at ten in the morning, tensions were still rising, and not showing any signs of fading out anytime soon. 

            About the only one in the group who seemed to hold any continual sense about him was Wycost, who found himself wandering through the MHHQ aimlessly, as it would seem to any regular Hunter who saw him. He had however, shifted into his trademark battle armor, which made him stand out less. Still, what was left of the 21st recognized him easily enough, glares included.

            J.K. Horn and Allegro had left for the cafeteria an hour ago. Hazil just sat in his office, looking between the stack of unfinished medical reports and Sigma II floating aimlessly in his goldfish bowl. Doan had left for the training facilities off to one side of the MHHQ. Willow, however, had vanished the quickest of anyone after giving them the bad news.

            A tiny voice in the back of Wycost's head had told the Bronx Bomber to go look for her. She wasn't in the War Room, not the dead room or any of the seminar rooms.

            Not in the barracks. No, Wycost avoided going to any of those. Instinctively, he knew where he would find her. The only place somebody who was going to run off and do something stupid went.

            The hangar bay and connected weapons depot. 

            The weapons depot was remarkably empty, aside from one desk jockey whose nose was stuffed inside an edition of Newsbite, eyes wide. Wycost waved a hand from his position in the doorway, unable to hide his frown.

            "Anyone come in recently?"

            "Huhwhut?" Came the mumbled reply. The clerk looked up, blinking a few times. Sheepishly, the reploid looked about the various wire door cabinets filled with various instruments of mass destruction, finally noticing the one door lying torn off of its hinges in front of one of the cabinets. Wycost frowned and stared at the one cabinet whose contents that had been messed with.

            "Well…good grief…" The clerk mumbled, his cheeks flushing in disbelief. "That can't be a good sign." Wycost walked over and pulled out one of the remaining heavy laser bazookas left. He held it one handed in front of the bumbling oaf for emphasis.

            "Somebody just walked in here, TORE the Goddamn storage door off of its hinges and plucked out a Class Eight Photonic Energy Disrupter with sighting scope attached under your nose as easy as finding the purple Easter Egg on Sunday morning, you lazy paper pusher." Wycost dropped the heavy cannon on the ground and walked out, leaving the flustered weapons depot officer to scramble for the weapon before it was too scratched up. "Go ahead and write yourself a missing items report, because that's about all you're useful for."

            Wycost dropped down his glasses again and walked out of the room into the main hangar bay, shaking his head.

            _She's definitely been here. That's just like her to grab the goods and try to make a break for it._

            The hangar bay was a little busier, thankfully. Wycost managed to catch sight of Cleo off in one corner, looking slightly frazzled from having to worry almost all of last night about Wycost, Bastion, and company, but still coherent enough to return to her duties. At the moment, she was throwing orders around to some of the grunt mechanics struggling with a Chimera 'Mech.

            "Oh, come on boys! This is something you should EASILY be able to handle." She snorted, tapping a wrench on her waist. They all grunted and groaned with their torque wrenches, trying desperately to undo the tight fit the nut held on the necessary bolt. Cleo sighed and looked up to the high ceiling. "Why me, God? Why me?"

            She turned about and noticed Wycost, blinking a few times before waving. "What are you doing in this neck of the woods?" 

            "Looking for someone." Wycost answered. He looked at Cleo intently from behind his glasses. "You wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?"

            Cleo paused for a moment, then set her wrench on the ground and brought her hand up to her chin.

            "Hmm…by someone that is female, you'd have to mean that righteous, antisocial Irish wench you dragged in kicking and screaming." Cleo muttered. "If that is the case, you might try the back of one of our larger, immobile hovertransports. We keep operational Landchasers in the back of those, and the odds are she's trying to grab one and make her escape."

            "Aren't you worried she'll leave?" Wycost queried, his voice rising. Cleo grinned mischieviously and reached into her chest compartment, pulling out a cylinder of some sort.

            "Kind of hard for a Landchaser to function without its ignition chamber. We take the primers out of all the vehicles here on base anymore, up until they're actually needed for a mission. We've learned from the great chase you, Doan, Allegro, Andante, and J.K. Horn had about a month ago." She tossed it up in the air a few times, then yawned. "She's probably still trying to get one of them to work if she's in here. Go on ahead."

            Wycost nodded and walked on to the far side of the hangar bay, to where the larger, nearly behemoth sized transports lay in various states of dormancy. Some of them looked familiar, eerily haunting in some regards because of Wycost's path in life.

            Some of them were dead on replicas of some of URFAWP's hovertransports, the massive people packers that the now disbanded group had used to ferry its 'peace officers' from point to point. Hovertransports were like that, though. For the most part, as generic as peanut butter.

            Still, it didn't help with Wycost's recurring memories of that dreadful incident where under Fluid Ferret and Sigma's control, he'd annihilated Isaiah into dust. He imagined Allegro had a similar experience somewhere in the back of his mind the ex-URFAWP reploid didn't really feel like talking about either.

            He made his way through one of the side hatches, noting that this hovertransport had had its rear section modified not to hold seats, but a miniature hangar bay. One which obviously had been visited recently. He could tell from the sliced off door handle lying next to its ajar larger half that simple detail.

            The interior was dark. Immeasurably so. But Wycost wasn't affected by that. His sunglare goggles twinkled for a moment as he engaged their infared sights, letting every detail of the dark room suddenly shift into clarity. 

            Like the room that was empty, save for one reploid with a flowing cape and a Landchaser that refused to start. Satisfied, Wycost disengaged his infared sights. He didn't need them any longer, now that he knew where to look. His glasses remained in place, though.

            "And just what are you doing?" He queried silently, hands at his sides.

            Willow jerked upright in an instant, and Wycost could almost sense her flaring nostrils and burning green eyes. Her head twisted in several directions, trying to pinpoint his voice. Finally, Wycost sighed and flipped the light switch beside the door. Willow winced for a moment as her optics adjusted to the sudden influx of light.

            "You're not going to be getting out of here with a Landchaser and a Class Eight Photonic Energy Disruptor like it was Christmas morning, you realize that." Wycost said plainly. "MHHQ security is too tight for that anymore."

            "There isn't a trusting soul in the whole lot of you here." Willow finally murmured in response. She picked herself up and walked over to Wycost. "At the same time, I have to go."

            "To what? To die??" Wycost said flatly. "I thought you had more potential than mere cannon fodder." 

            Willow bared her teeth at him, and behind his glasses Wycost blinked at the sight. Not out of surprise, but that even when she was angry, there was that element of beauty.

            "You idiot. After all we've done, after ALL YOU KNOW…"

            "You're not leaving here…" Wycost began unsteadily…

            Willow screamed angrily and kicked him back out through the doorway he'd just come in from. That was the end of that conversation then and there.

            Wycost skidded to a grinding halt on the concrete floor outside of the hovertransport, grunting in pain as he recalled thankfully his choice to put his armor on before he'd gotten here. That last kick and its recoil would have done a number on his best leather jacket.

            Outside in the hangar bay, a few people looked up from their work for a moment to look over at Wycost being thrown out of the hovertransport after that immense scream. A few snickered as Wycost shook his head free of the attack. Just another domestic act of violence, they supposed. Even Cleo smirked for a moment.

            "Guess that fiery little barmaid got the better of him that time."

            Then they noticed a blistering beam of laser energy hurl itself from the hovertransport's side, narrowly avoiding a madly dashing Wycost. Not content to stop there, the raking beam of unstoppable piercing power arced its way about the hangar bay, taking down a triad of Landchaser laying against the wall. Thankfully, the concrete only gave about a meter as the beam passed over it, otherwise it was likely it could have gone through the entire complex. And it was there that the people inside the hangar bay realized now would be a very good time to make tracks out of the facility for the time being.

            Wycost narrowly avoided the blistering wave that chased after him. He could see it in Willow's eyes. There wasn't that same edge of murderous intent in them that he'd seen before. Annoyance. Extreme annoyance was about the extent of it. But even with the knowledge that she was only trying to make him run and get out of her face, it didn't improve his odds any. This little firefly had punch behind those burning green eyes, a power called upon rarely.

            _This could get ugly real fast…_

_            Willow jumped out of the hovertransport, ignoring the still melted gash mark torn along its side. She looked at Wycost with disgust, then lifted the massive Class Eight bazooka again._

            "If I don't go, we all die. So if you're so intent on stopping me, then you simply deprive yourself OF WHAT HOURS REMAIN." She spat out, firing the cannon off again. 

            Wycost stood erect and still, shutting his eyes and focusing his thoughts onto his body. 

            _This ends now, you treacherous minx._

_            Cleo watched in horror as the blazing beam of light energy soared along and overwhelmed where Wycost had stood. The attack seared along and finally ended as it slammed into the opposing wall of concrete._

            Willow let the massive weapon drop down beside her, shaking her head.

            "A waste of good talent…but a needed one."

            "I'd have to disagree there." Came a gruff and familiar voice from behind. Willow's eyes snapped open and she turned around at full speed.

            In the instant before it discharged, Willow realized in horror that her face was only three centimeters away from the end of Wycost's very capable Buster.

            The room exploded in brilliant light, and Cleo could only watch in disbelief as a newly returned Wycost stood still, letting the effects of his Strobe Flash turn Willow into a harmless reploid in only moments.

            Willow screeched in pain, stumbling backwards with her hands covering up over her eyes. Disgusted, Wycost slammed his steel reinforced boot down on her stolen weapon and crushed it into uselessness.

            "Next time you fight somebody, take into account the idea that they're not always going to let you take potshots at them. Especially if they have a habit of using warp generators to their maximum capability."

            "Damn you…" Willow groaned, continuing to back away from Wycost. The Bronx Bomber scoffed and lifted his sunglare goggles up into his helmet, then ran full tilt into Willow and knocked the air out of her. She collapsed onto the hard ground backfirst, wheezing from the blow, eyes still clenched tightly shut. Before she could make a move to the contrary, Wycost was lying on top of her, pinning every last one of her limbs to the ground so she couldn't even struggle.

            "And that was only half strength Strobe Flash, Willow. Next time you ever think about pulling a stunt like that, you'll lose sight permanently in those pretty little optics of yours."

            "Wycost, we don't have time for this…" Willow croaked, still trying to pull in her breath. "Ice Beacon…"

            "What we don't have time for is visions of grandeur, Irish Banshee." Wycost growled. "By the numbers you dug up, Ice Beacon won't be completed until later tonight. That's time enough for us to wait until we're ALL set to go, you hear? If you go alone, you'll be DEAD."

            "If I don't go, we're all dead."

            "If we all go, we LIVE." Wycost finished sternly. 

            Slowly, Willow's eyes began to open. Unsteadily, eyelids fluttering as light once again filled them and sent the now painful signals back into her eyes.

            But when they finally cleared and focused, Willow found herself staring into Wycost's face. Not hidden behind those black glasses of his, his face, bared to her in its entireity. Determination was evident.

            She inhaled and exhaled a few times, examining those eyes of his for a few moments more. 

            It was then Wycost noticed how close to her he was. Her rising chest was brushing up against him. Fighting off the urge to blush, he pulled himself off of her and shook his head.

            "Give us time, Willow. Time enough for Bristol to come back to her senses and organize. And then we'll go. Until that time, we don't stand a chance. We will destroy Ice Beacon. We will." He extended a hand out, blinking once before looking straight into her. "All I'm asking for now is your trust. The same trust that we put in you when we went to save Bristol."

            Willow stared at him a few moments more, then reached down and grasped his hand, shaking it firmly.

            "Don't fail me, Wycost." She said evenly. Wycost nodded, smiling slightly.

            "If we do fail, then you'll have no chance to hold it over my head, minx." Willow snorted at that.

            "You make death sound humorous."

            Wycost shrugged. "And by the way…"

            "Yes?"

            "You hit like a girl."

            That comment sent Wycost screaming across the hangar bay as he slammed facefirst into the cement wall. An infuriated, but for the moment, calmer Willow stomped out of the hangar bay, leaving behind the remains of her spat like Kleenex in a wastebasket.

            When Wycost could see clearly again, Cleo put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

            "Just what did you say to her?"

            "I said she hit like a girl." Wycost mumbled.

            Cleo promptly kicked him in the throat and stormed off, shaking her head.

            "Serves you right, you chauvinist." Wycost grasped at the wounded part of his body and shook his head.

            _Women…nothing but trouble._

            Some of the people inside the ruined remains of the MHHQ could hardly believe what they saw when Kazok Gravor returned with his two compatriots. X had even made the trouble before going back to the MHHQ to catch up with Hazil a bit…the old MHHQ medical reploid, though mentally scarred, seemed to brighten up at the 21XX Blue Bomber's appearance. With X's return came another part of Hazil's damaged psyche calling home once more. But he'd shrugged X off, shook his head and told the goof to get back where he belonged.

            Which was here. Or at least, what used to be here. 

            X leaned back against the chair, exhaling in relief as he was now finally able to let his weary body rest. Still, despite that relief, there was pain in his eyes. A pain that nobody on Earth could possibly share. Though they might guess at it.

            "Zero is dead." X finally spoke up when he regained the energy to do so. But even then, everyone in the room, which was Signas, Bastion, Kazok, Doan, Dash, Willow, and Gavin, felt it. That sudden drain returning to him again. X had to choke out that last part of the sentence, and it took every ounce of willpower he could muster. 

            Grimacing, X gripped at his helmeted head, shutting his eyes tightly against the new tears, feeling the memories flooding through him again.

            _Damnit, X!! Run, already!_

_            **Zero, I'm not leaving you!!**_

**_If you don't leave, then the BOTH of us are going to die today, you stupid bastard!!_**

_            "Just how did he die, exactly?" Signas asked calmly. X took a moment to calm his thoughts, and to force the sheer vividness of the memories back._

            "Ever since we escaped that GDC session, Zero and I had been trekking back East. Going through all of Europe, especially a hostile one, was no picnic."

            "Couldn't you warp?" Kazok asked.

            "No. Not as things were." X said raggedly. He took another moment to look at Kazok and chuckled a bit. "I'm sorry…I still find it hard to believe that Mavericks are working with Maverick Hunters."

            "All the rules have been changed, X." Dash spoke up, walking next to Kazok and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Sigma was one of the first to be destroyed by the Purges. Without him…the movement died. Even before then, Dash and I had managed to destroy the Maverick Virus within ourselves by force of will alone."

            "They did the same thing Wycost barely pulled off twice, X." Bastion piped up. "Internal deletion. But let's move on. You and Zero…just what happened?"

            "We couldn't warp. We figured out that much early on. To keep the reploids trapped, the GDC had set up anti-warp EM shielding everywhere we went. We tried to protect them at first…being unable to call back home, to do anything else, it was the only thing we had left to do." X pulled himself up, visibly wincing as new pain ran through his right leg. "Damnit…"

            "What happened there?"

            "One of the Reploid Hunters got very lucky." X murmured. He shook his head. "Our efforts were in vain, though…despite our skill, they were just too many. I was too weak to begin with. No armor sets, no more capsules from Dr. Light…Which is funny. He gave me the Fourth Armor Set during the Fourth Uprising, and that time the foes we were being thrown against was Repliforce, a mere scapegoat in Sigma's schemes. Now, when our entire race was doomed, nothing appeared."

            X shook his head.

            "Zero and I could do nothing for them. For the race we created."

            "_You created, you mean." Signas motioned. X laughed again, the sadness still evident. But he turned his face on Signas and shook it._

            "No. Many years ago, before any of you were born, he still existed. As did I."

            "But…but that would mean…" Willow spoke up, green eyes squinting in disbelief,

            "Zero was also a prototype to the reploid race. He too, was built with the schematics of me Dr. Light had created. But not by Cain's hands, any not by any of this age. I was the final child of Dr. Thomas Xavier Light. Zero…Zero was the spawn of Dr. Albert William Wily."

            The room was silent like a stone.

            "Wily…yes. The same one." X sighed again. "Believe it or not, Zero was originally built as Wily's last great weapon. Built to destroy me, and my namesake."

            "And did he?" Signas asked gingerly. "Did he truly succeed as he thought he would?" 

            "He doesn't remember any of that." X murmured. "Or rather, he didn't."

            "So what happened next, after you realized that being the good Samaritans was getting the two of you nowhere?" Doan mumbled.

            "We kept heading East, the only way we could. By foot, and occasionally by Landchaser if we found one. Eventually, we cleared a path into Siberia…I thought we were home free then."

            "Why? What was in Siberia?" Willow asked.

            "Cossack." X replied raggedly. "Or rather…his daughter." Bastion's face went pale.

            "Oh no…X…please don't tell me…"

            "Apparently, Pharaoh Man had gone with the assault team that had tried to stop Ice Beacon…the apparent cause of all the madness a year and a half ago. Only Pharaoh Man never came back. It was too much for Kalinka, I suppose…she must have snapped. Losing her father, and then one of her father's most trusted robots…" X laughed a bit and shook his head. "She betrayed us. She let me and Zero in…but all the while, while we sat and recuperated, she had called the GDC in. The authorities came knocking."

            "So how did you two escape?"

            "Only I escaped." X said quietly, looking at the palm of his hand. "Kalinka and her Robot Masters were all killed by the GDC as reploid sympathizers, nothing but weeds to be taken out of the garden. And then they came for us. Zero and I fought to the best of our abilities, we hijacked one of their Landchasers and tore off…but they tracked us anyhow. Zero sacrificed himself to stop them. He jumped off of the Landchaser and screamed at me to move on…" X shut his eyes and fought back the beginnings of his sobbing. "So I took off, leaving Zero there to face down every last line of opposition pursuing us. Half a minute after I left him there…" His voice cracked.

            "What?" Willow asked harshly. X looked up at her, eyes wizened.

            "That explosion behind me indicated all too clearly that nobody had survived."

            The room was silent again, as everyone absorbed X's report. Finally, the Blue Bomber of 21XX stood up.

            "Zero is dead. Nearly every reploid on Earth has been extinguished. And in less than two hours, a massive Reploid Hunter task force will arrive in the ruins of this once proud New Tokyo to put an end to us. Would that about sum it up?"

            "Essentially." Signas replied. "Things have gone from bad to worse, and even beyond that, my friend." X mulled over the comment, then looked around the room.

            "In some weird way…you are all related to me. You were all created in part off of the schematics that made me. You are my brothers, my sisters…Every last one of you, belonging to a proud race that now faces its doom." X blinked his eyes a few times. "But it will not end here. For nearly all my life, I have fought to stop injustice and create peace. Now, that is no longer possible…so I realize that there is only one thing left to fight for. Survival."

            X stood up, tottering on his bad right leg for a moment before standing erect. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you all sooner. I know that no amount of apologies can make up for my absence, but I must at least try. On this day, this final prophetic day, you have my sword. I will stand by any who would walk with me and defend the race born of my flesh to the bitter end."

            Shouts of agreement rang throughout the room, but yet that did not help the dull ache in X's heart.

            _And that's just what this is…the end._

            Wycost poked his head into the Medical Bay once more. "Haz? You still here??"

            "I'm in the back with a bottle of whiskey." Hazil called out halfheartedly. "You're welcome to join me."

            Wycost walked all the way into Hazil's office, then lifted his goggles up into his helmet. "I had an idea." 

            Hazil put the nearly empty flask down and stared up at Wycost with fake inebriation. "Well, izzat so? Holee crit, the cowboy's finally using that noodle of his. What did you think of?"

            "One possible way to improve the chances of our attack on Ice Beacon." Wycost finished. "We call in more warriors." Hazil frowned for a moment, then shook his head.

            "Sorry, bubsy. Outside of the freaks that already know about this crap, I doubt there's anybody in the Hunters who would be willing to help us out. And if the GDC is corrupt as Willow would have us believe it is, you're not going to find any willing volunteers there either. MI9's claws are in deep."

            "I'm not talking about them." Wycost said, cracking a small smile. "I'm talking about pulling in a certain group of people you had the opportunity to upgrade recently. I think they were the bunch that defended Moscow during Sigma's Sixth."

            Hazil frowned for a moment, opened his mouth to voice further opinionation…then promptly slammed it shut as his eyes widened in sudden epiphany.

            "But…GEEZUS, WYCOST!! Pharaoh Man and his gang are ROBOTS." Hazil murmured when he could speak again. He tapped the side of his muddled skull for emphasis. "You and I are reploids. And though I don't particularly like to fathom the idea, because it puts us damn near on edge with what Mavericks do, going up against MI9 and stopping Ice Beacon will require the strike team taking human lives. If we do that, we feel bad, we go and get drunk, wake up the next morning with a hangover, shake it off and move on. If one of THEM kills a human, that's it, bub. Game Over. Mind Freeze. Breaking the First Law. All of the above. Send Flowers to The Funeral Parlor. Buy the coffin. Slag 'em down and close the curtains." Hazil pulled himself free of his office chair, jerking his hands in front of him for emphasis. "Are any of these allegories getting through that thick Coney Dog stuffed brain of yours?!"

            Wycost took Hazil's strained gibberish in stride.

            "All of them, actually. They've proven their worth once. They are capable of getting the job done. They may not be able to help us directly fight off the MI9 forces, but I'd bet they're very capable of doing a number on Ice Beacon itself. After all, nothing in their core programming says they can't shred a gigantic satellite dish carved out of ice. And at this point, Hazil, you have to realize we need every scrap of help we can get." The Bronx Bomber sighed, then leaned back against the wall of Hazil's office. Using both hands, he pulled his helmet off and set it on the ground beside him, then looked up at the ceiling.

            "At one point on my search for Bristol, I was asked by somebody if I had any idea what was worse than a Maverick. Well, now I know. It's MI9. All of it. I asked myself once if I still had a purpose. Now I do." Wycost looked at Hazil. "Life itself is an unclear, hazy gray mist covering roads with gnarled roots that rise up to trip us. The lines between right and wrong…messed up. Perhaps for others, they're clearer. For me, they're a lot harder to find. But I know this, Hazil. Willow speaks the truth. If we don't do this, if we don't do everything in our power to prevent Ice Beacon from going off, then we truly are lost. Since its birth, MI9 has represented a side of humanity that has shunned the rest. You can look at MI9 very simply, Hazil; They are the Mavericks of the human race. Just like the reploids have Mavericks, so do they. This time, the danger is different. MI9 has to be stopped. Sigma can wait…he's had his chances to ruin everything, and he will again, but this time, it isn't that baldheaded freak we need to worry about." Wycost tilted his head down and looked at Hazil, shaking his head. "I have human friends, Hazil. I have reploid friends. And if Ice Beacon succeeds tonight, then we're all screwed. That's why I want you to call Pharaoh Man and the rest of the Foregone Five. They're the only people left we can turn to for this."

            "What about X? Or Zero??" Hazil murmured. "I know you don't particularly like them that much, but they've done a lot over the years. Undoubtedly, they'd come in handy."

            "No." Wycost mumbled softly. Hazil frowned for a moment, but stopped his return comment when he saw the glazed look in Wycost's eye. "This isn't their battle. Theirs is with Sigma. It always will be. This is ours. This is Bristol's. This is Willow's. This battle is Bastion's, and Allegro's. This battle is MINE."

            "And Doan? What about that cheeky plucker?" Hazil queried, rapping his fingers together. Wycost cracked a bit of a smile.

            "Old grumpy? Doan does whatever he wants, always has. And it was his choice to help us out in the mission to rescue Bristol…as it is his choice to help us now. So don't worry about him."

            Hazil mulled over the conversation a bit more, then shook his head.

            "So…You want me to call up Sergei Cossack and see if the old codger is willing to give his most prized Robot Masters up to the greatest crapshoot of all time?"

            "Yup."

            "I'll see what I can do then." Hazil said curtly. "Now get the Hell out. Let's keep with tradition and hold my appointments the way I like 'em. Short, sweet, and fifty bucks for fifteen minutes."

            Wycost flipped a hand up over his shoulder and walked out of the room, helmet nestled in the crook of his arm. The aging Medical Reploid sighed, then pulled himself tighter into his desk.

            "Now then…just where did I put that old phone number?" Hazil grumbled to himself, typing on the computer as he went.

            It was amazing he could multitask between searching the interior of his mind for a phone number he hadn't dialed in a long time and typing his document on his desktop PC. Especially given the subject of his report.

            **_From: Dr. Hazil, MHHQ Medical Bay CMO_**

**_            To: Commander Signas, MHHQ_**

**_            Subject: My Two Weeks' Notice_**

            "Time for all us old reploids to fade away…" Hazil said shortly, eyes glancing off into nowhere.

            Time indeed.

            Pharaoh Man sat in front of the massive computer display at the very depths of the Fourth Ring, calmly trying to ignore the sheer boredom. He supposed he could have opened of the games programs that his creator, Sergei Cossack, had always insisted on keeping on the rustic machine. Nearly 150 years after its making, Pharaoh Man had to admit that the original NES Metroid ROM still posed a challenge of significant difficulty.

            Still, there were other things to keep him occupied. Like the dazzling theatrics of Bright Man and Ring Man, who kept exchanging shots in the next room. Pharaoh Man kept one of the separate mini-screens tuned to the room's monitoring camera.

            Both Bright Man and Ring Man had been built and re-built with equal jumping and speed equipment. Which made them nearly equal, aside from their fighting styles.

            Ring Man always been a blitzer. The rudimentary combat program Wily had built into him during his capture had remained in some small form even after Cossack had reconstructed him. He was accurate with his shots beyond all expectations, which he needed to be. Bright Man could perform what was called a 'spray and pray', where he fired wildly in all directions, hoping to catch his enemy in the various zones of fire. But Ring Man's form of attack used his own special type of cutting blades, a kind which returned to him if he so willed it. However, he had only managed to fire one at a time and stay concentrated enough to keep an eye on it. For him, if the shot didn't make it, the best he could hope for was that it would strike the enemy down in the return trip.

            Currently, Bright Man was following just that same policy of spray and pray, and doing a rather fine job of it. His various cones of plasma bullets was keeping Ring Man from making a full out acrobatic leap, leaving the more melee type Robot Master to cope with little more than slight hops and sideways dodges.

            Pharaoh Man cracked a small smile, one of the many idiosyncrasies Sergei had given him in his many years of life. He drew a hand up and rested it on his chin.

            "My bet's on Ring Man." He muttered finally. 

            _Now, we just let it play out…_

_            Pharaoh Man was so concentrated on the fight between Ring Man and Bright Man that the sudden incoming call caught him completely off guard. He jumped up in his seat for a moment, then turned back to the main monitor with a slightly dazed look on his face._

            Quickly, he turned around to the main monitor and thought about who exactly would be calling here. Cain? No, Cain was dead…he'd kept in touch enough with the news to realize that. Which left X, Zero, and Hazil.

            He tapped the annoying comm chitter on. "Cossack's Citadel."

            The viewscreen tapped on a moment later. Yup, Hazil.

            The gray haired reploid looked terrible. His voice didn't sound all that good, either.

            "Hazil." Phare said calmly. "How are things at the MHHQ?"

            "Cain died, and we got a real GDC asskissker stuffed in his place. X has lost three of his armor sets, and the Maverick's new strategy is just too damned effective."

            "Is that all?" Pharaoh Man asked jokingly. Hazil snorted.

            "Hardly. To make matters all the worse, some old friends have returned back to the MHHQ after a wee bit of a hiatus. Wycost and Bristol. And guess what? They brought company, a red haired Irish reploid with more spunk in her than a Mexican jumping bean called Willow. Apparently, Willow and Bristol share common family ties with an informal splinter faction of the long deceased Second Rainbow called MI9. Recently, MI9 got a bee in its bonnet with the concept that all reploids were a danger and needed to be destroyed. Which meant that slowly but surely, they began to eliminate both their own reploids and those that they could hunt down in the middle of nowhere. Willow and Bristol narrowly escaped with their lives, but not before Bristol had done some pretty amazing inventing. One of her inventions, or at least a greatly expanded version of it, now lies ready to cause every reploid on Earth to fritz up into hyper panic mode."

            Hazil stopped to take a breath. Pharaoh Man just sat there in the chair and blinked for what seemed like a hundred times. Hazil chuckled, albeit gruffly.

            "Take your time. It caught me off guard too."

            "I hope that was a very bad joke you just told." Phare finally spoke up. "Because I don't find anything humorous in it."

            "We don't think it really deserves any praise either, but it's the truth." Hazil said. "I need to talk with your dad. We're hurting bad, and I need to see if he's willing to send you guys on another mission." Pharaoh Man's eyes dimmed slightly.

            "I'm afraid you'll find that a call you're unable to place." He said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Doctor Sergei Cossack passed away on the very same day as your own Doctor Cain."

            On the other end of the conference call, Hazil sunk back into the depths of his seat, eyes even emptier than before.

            "Cossack's…dead?" Hazil repeated, unable to grasp onto the fact. Pharaoh Man nodded his graceful head once.

            "Old age, Hazil. It was his time."

            "Does X know?"

            "He has not called in for a long time. The last time he did…" Phare began shakily, "The last time he did, my master was growing worse, but he was alive."

            "He's been busy." Hazil finished sourly. "Things have only gotten worse for him and Zero, and they're far from improving."

            "They just have to move on." Pharaoh Man said. "As painful as it sounds, the only course we can take is to move on, and strive to preserve the memory of those that have gone before us."

            The Robot Master stood up from the seat and looked at Hazil on his feet. "But what's this mission you were describing? Is it another group of Mavericks?"

            "Not this time." Hazil muttered. "And this is what makes my skin crawl. The enemies in this mission are humans."

            If Pharaoh Man would have had a heart, it would have stopped beating then.

            "You can't be serious." He uttered. "Humans?"

            "The same group I was talking about earlier, Phare." Hazil continued grimly. "MI9. As we speak, they're in the closing stages of Ice Beacon's final design. And tonight, my friend, whether we like it or not, that thing goes off, and we're all screwed sideways. Once before, you volunteered because you believed you could make the world a better place. Now, we're asking you and your men again to take that risk, just as we are. This time, we're not trying to make the world a better place. This time, we are trying to preserve it." 

            Phare thought over Hazil's statements. And thought. And thought some more. Finally, he looked up, his mouth and eyes stern.

            "I cannot let the others be thrust into a situation such as you've described. They cannot fight humans, not as they could fight reploid Mavericks. Mind Freeze…DEATH, Hazil, is an all too real possibility." 

            Hazil's face fell. "I figured as much myself. Even during your initial upgrades…"

            "BUT." Pharaoh Man continued, lifting a finger up, causing Hazil to silence his voice, "I will go."

            "Why just you?" Hazil asked quickly, lifting an eyebrow.

            "Because I am the only one of Cossack's robots who isn't restricted by the Laws of Robotics." Pharaoh Man said calmly. 

            Hazil's eyes went wide for a moment, then flared back to normalcy. "Be serious."

            "Oh, rest assured that I am completely serious." Pharaoh Man said. "I know this for a fact because I have survived Kalinka's instigated Mind Freeze. The core programming always dies first in mind freeze."

            "Just how did Kalinka trigger mind freeze?!" Hazil bellowed, still unwilling to grasp onto the idea.

            "She made me think I had done her serious irreversible psychological harm." Pharaoh Man said amusedly. "And though I can't exactly explain it…it was as if I fought against a version of myself undeniably connected to the Laws, and defeated it."

            Hazil absorbed it, but said nothing. 

            "I will go. The others will stay." Pharaoh Man finished calmly.

            Hazil clucked. "You sure about this? There's no hard feelings if you stay behind on this mission." Pharaoh Man seemed to smile a bit, then shook his head back and forth.

            "I will go." Hazil ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

            "We'll be waiting here for you, buddy. Catch the comm coordinates when they come in, they'll take you straight to my office. I've also included the signal you'll need to pass through our EM shielding."

            Hazil's connection clicked off, leaving behind one simple file attachment.

            Pharaoh Man stared at the numbers, the coordinates and passcode clearly marked.

            Just then, the camera focused on the fight between Ring Man and Toad Man flashed with a sudden flare of light. Pharaoh Man turned back to his preset monitor and watched with earnest.

            When the light died down, Bright Man's flashbulb was lying up against an outstretched ring in his opponent's left hand. Ring Man's right held another Ring Boomerang against Bright Man's chest.

            _They show so much promise…I can only hope that I return to them._

            Pharaoh Man tapped his comm.

            "Ring Man, Bright Man."

            They looked up to the camera focused on them.

            "Yes, Pharaoh Man?"

            "I will be leaving you all for a while." The silver and goldenrod armored Robot Master said calmly. Ring Man blinked, then lifted a hand up.

            "Just where are you going?"

            "To help our friends in New Tokyo." Pharaoh Man replied.

            "Then we shall come with you." Bright Man spoke up hopefully.

            "No." Pharaoh Man said sternly. "You cannot. Not on this mission, Bright. The risks here are too great for you, and indeed for all the others. Only I can deal with this."

            "And just why are you the only Robot Master built by our creator that is capable of dealing with this newest challenge?" Ring Man retorted drily.

            "Because I am the only Robot Master amongst us who is no longer under the will of the Three Laws." Pharaoh Man said back, after a moment's hesitation.

            Bright Man narrowed his eyes. "I don't see any scenario where having the Three Laws would pose a diffi…" He cut himself short, blinking a few times before looking up at the camera with wide optics. "No."

            "This mission will pit our allies against humans. A radical group of humans who seek to destroy all reploids."

            "Is that what they said? Do you really believe that??" Ring Man called back, a sour tone present in his voice. 

            Pharaoh Man felt his insides churning over the same question.

            _Are humans…truly this capable of such acts??_

_            "I do not know what to believe yet." He finally echoed back. "But unless I go on this mission and see for myself, then I will never know what to believe."_

            Bright Man and Ring Man looked at each other for a moment, then left the room.

            Ten seconds later they were standing beside Pharaoh Man. The Robot Master with the ring on his head scrutinized the Egyptian robot for a long time, then eased back and shook his head.

            "I don't truly approve of this action you are taking. It is illogical, it is irrational, it is…"

            "Human?" Pharaoh Man finished humorlessly. Ring Man sighed and nodded his head. 

            Pharaoh Man shrugged.

            "Our creator once said that we were all capable of great things…if we allowed ourselves enough time to reach for them. Perhaps he meant that one day, with enough experiences and years, we could achieve a state of self rivaling that held of Mega Man in the age before." He turned to Bright Man. "I know that it has held true with me. I have gone beyond my original programming, I have conquered the supposed death of Mind Freeze, and I have found emotions, and how to use them. It is all this that allows me, and me alone to attempt this task without risk of harm. If any of you should go, Mind Freeze is almost certain. And I don't want to lose any of you. I doubt Kalinka does much either."

            "Well then, if your mind is made up, there is nothing that we could do to convince you otherwise." Ring Man said, extending out a hand. "Just promise me, for Mistress Kalinka's sake you will come back alive."

            "You'll all keep an eye on her for me while I'm gone, right?" Phare queried shortly. Ring Man nodded, smiling a bit.

            "We shall try."

            Pharaoh Man finished preparing the necessary data for his warp jump, nodded one final time at his comrades, and then blasted off.

            A few moments later, Bright Man turned about.

            "Will he be all right?" 

            Ring Man shrugged.

            "He made a promise. We can only hope he's capable of keeping it."

            Sigma could feel something. He could smell it in the air, that biting hint of something beyond the normal Hellbent on seeing itself through. The years had done that to him. In retrospect, the years had done a lot to him, Sigma supposed.

            It was hard to envision the earliest period of his existence anymore. So much time had passed…so many different forms and bodies and conflicts, that the lines had become blurred. It was difficult for Sigma to accept the truth of how he had become who he was. It was difficult to admit that at one point, he had been a Maverick Hunter. That he had proudly wore the colors of the MHHQ, walked with pride in his step and joy in his heart.

            It was difficult to remember that because it was a painful reminder of what he no longer had. Thanks to the one. The Crimson Hunter who now stood in the upper echelons of the MHHQ power structure, a deadly force to be reckoned with.

            It was thanks to Zero that Sigma now walked his path. It was thanks to him that he stepped with scars slashed across his eyes and a burning fire in his heart. A heart that now was black…but at one point, the Maverick Lord resignedly admitted, was clear.

            Odd how being destroyed time and time again by a figure in blue would do that to you. And that was the second half of the equation. 

            X. The unknown variable. The portion of Sigma's grand equation he hadn't accounted for when he had taken the rest of his elite Hunters on June 4th, 2118 at the beginning of the First Uprising. 

            Together, X and Zero had stopped Sigma's plans time and time again. But this time would be different. This time, Sigma could feel it. In this last great series of battles, it would be the Mavericks that stood tall over all opposition.

            X was without his armor sets. Zero was crushed by the sudden reappearance of his lost love Iris. And James T. Cain, the man that both Maverick Hunters had called mentor and friend, lay dead of a brain aneurysm.

            _Yes, this time those two will lay dead at my feet. I shall not be denied this day._

            Sigma was so focused on his internal thoughts he didn't notice the figure creeping up behind him. But he did notice the slender pair of hands that crept about his waist and latched together over his stomach.

            "What are you thinking about now?" Iris asked seductively, her voice silk running over fine chocolate. Despite himself, Sigma smiled.

            "I'm thinking about them." He answered back, reaching a massive hand up to caress the back of her head and run his fingers through her long hair. "About how every time before, they have defeated me. But this time, they will not."

            Iris reluctantly pulled her hands back away from his stomach and walked about until she was facing him. Her eyes shone into his cold, soulless ones, and he almost turned away in shame for a moment. Almost.

            "Those murderers won't get away with it this time." She said, picking herself up and sitting on his broad lap. She reached a hand up and caressed his stony chin. "I won't let them, and neither will any of the others. You have trained us too well to fail. Zero may have killed me once before, but he never will again. He'll never be able to hurt anyone ever again by the time I'm through with him."

            Sigma reached a hand down and picked up her lithe body with one simple movement. She yelped for a moment in surprise, but stopped worrying when Sigma smiled at her, that toothy grin she had become so accustomed to.

            "Your spirit gives me the strength to continue this war, Iris." He said finally. Iris smiled, that innocent smile that belonged to her and shook her head.

            "And your spirit is what I love, Sigma." She craned her neck a bit, but kissed him full on the mouth. Sigma returned it immediately, then pulled her close into a tighter embrace.

            And even then, Sigma's actions came under the duress of a cold, barren spirit that long ago lost any ability to love. He could only hate now. 

            _Love…just another tool for my utility belt._

            It was Doan who had opted to move to the shores of the Japanese mainland that stood between New Tokyo and the open Pacific seas that led to the GDC stronghold of Cornus. So he sat there, on a high rocky cliff as the crashing waves beneath continued their slow erosion of the Cliffside.

            The gray skies had still not cleared in the slightest…they hadn't had a bright blue sky for the longest time now. Nearly everyone had forgotten what one even looked like now. The combination of their existence, the weather, and the ruins they barely existed in had done little to aid their moods.

            Doan himself stared into the horizon unblinking. For him, death had already come. Cleo was dead. Wycost was dead. Everyone he gave a damn about was gone…even his family, or what was left of it had been turned against him and his kind.

            "Wind blow high and wind blow down, wind gust through the shattered town, carry the pieces of long lost love, beyond the dim to heaven above…" He mused quietly.

            But they were coming. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and stared out farther into the ocean. There he spotted what he was looking for. The hovertransports were coming in, and its engines showed no sign of stopping.

            He opened up his comm.

            "They're inbound."

            "Copy, Doan. Return to base." Came Signas's voice. As commanding and stern as ever. Doan nodded his head, then hopped to his feet and popped his wings out. The rocket thrusters ignited and he blasted off into the sky, making a quick midair turn to point himself inland as he went at the comfortable pace of two hundred and fifty kilometers an hour.

            But the lead hovertransport noticed him. Its upper plasma turret on the roof turned about and locked onto Doan as he soared above the skyline. The Ghost Wind heard the sound of it ratcheting into place and firing, even over the wind that blew past him. He turned his head about and saw the all too lethal bolt of high energy careening towards him. With years of experience under his belt, and another year and a half of being used to his Flight Wings, Doan backflipped in midair, allowing the blast to narrowly soar by his contorted body.

            "Base, Doan here." He said through gritted teeth as he blasted down towards the ground, picking up speed by gravity alone. His thrusters he shut off for the time being.

            "Base here. What's wrong, Doan?"

            "They spotted me. Sorry I won't be able to join the party, boys. Give X my regards…and tell him he won't have to worry about the plasma turrets on the hovertransports when they arrive."

            "Doan, NO!! Escape! Get out of there, just escape!!"

            Doan smiled a bit at that, a grim and bitter smile. The frontal plasma turret popped off another round, angling towards his falling frame. The Ghost Wind activated his thrusters and shot down even farther away from the second shot.

            "That's no longer an option…Doan out." He finished, shutting down the comm even as Signas began to utter another ridiculous retort. With his left hand, he reached behind his neck and grasped onto the hilt of his beam lance, pulling it out in front of him and igniting the elongated plasma blade.

            Just before he slammed into the ground, Doan inverted his body about once more and fired all of his thrusters…even his normal dash boots. The effect was immediate. His body was jarred out of its freefall and sent him hurtling towards the hovertransport, beam lance drawn and ready.

            Of course the behemoth he was tracking down tried to attack. Doan would have been worried if it didn't. Furiously now, the front plasma cannon began to pelt shots, not even bothering to charge up but creating a hail of smaller, less powerful plasma bullets towards him. Doan deftly flew his way through the storm, using his beam lance to knock away any shots that grew too close for comfort. Even as he did, he hummed…Something that frightened him at first, both by the mere idea of it and his choice of music. But as he cleared through the storm of plasma bullets and sliced the frontal laser turret clean off of its base, Doan accepted his small idiosyncrasy and just kept going.

            _Oh Superman where are you now,_

_            When everything's gone wrong somehow…_

            The middle turret was destroyed just as quickly, not even having a chance to target onto Doan before he made three neat slices through it and made it explode. The third and last, though, did begin to track onto him.

            "Not today!!" Doan shouted, rotating about the single turret faster and faster and then jamming his beam lance into the side, opening up the bulbous protrusion like a can opener might.

            The hovertransport began to slow down as Doan continued his successful attack on the vehicle's only external defenses. Doan shot off a fair distance from the hovertransport and waited as it ground to a halt. The other two turned around then, hoping to destroy the singular reploid infidel once and for all. Doan shook his head and primed his Buster, unleashing a flurry of shots on both that destroyed their laser turrets as well and left several well sized dents in the thick armor they carried. The two who had thought to attack Doan suddenly decided better of it, then tore off. The initial hovertransport remained behind for a few moments more, even as its compatriots blasted for a meeting with cruel, cruel destiny.

            The back hatch opened up and one of the Reploid Hunters within jumped out. Its passenger dropped off, the hovertransport started up again and continued its trek towards New Tokyo and the MHHQ.

            The Reploid Hunter walked towards Doan slowly, his thick metallic boots giving the human the appearance of the same accursed race he and his kind sought to exterminate. His clothes were all dark black, giving the human a slimming effect that betrayed the sharp angles of his musculature underneath. What Doan wondered in the back of his mind, was if this Reploid Hunter was one of the new recruits…or MI9.

            Doan pointed his beam lance at the oncoming man as the Reploid Hunter stepped to a halt and let his burning eyes bore into the reploid.

            "If we had known you were coming, we'd have had the chance to bake you some cookies." Doan muttered. The Reploid Hunter sneered at the comment a bit and reached behind him for something dangling at his waist.

            "Reploid, that's the last joke you'll ever crack." The short haired man held out his hand; he was holding a beam weapon casing.

            It came to life with a deft flick of the Reploid Hunter's thumb; a beam staff.

            Doan harrumphed.

            "It figures…You MI9 bastards again." The Reploid Hunter's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but dimmed to normalcy soon afterwards.

            "Well then…you knowing about us is just one more reason you deserve to die." 

            "It's your fault, you know." Doan countered, using the limited maglev function of his Flight Armor to lift him a few inches off of the ground. He held his beam lance steady in both hands then. "The Hunters were dealing with it. The Hunters had the threat in check. But then you had to go and build Ice Beacon, and throw every piece of our hard work out the window."

            "There are no distinctions between good and bad reploids." The MI9 agent countered, twirling his beam staff about with the grace of a baton twirler. "You all deserve death. You are an abomination; one that has been removed, and will be completely lost from this world by the end of this day."

            "Reploids were made in humanity's image." Doan snapped. "Reploids were built to be just like you and the rest of your kind. Only we don't have to worry about the messy process of childbirth and menopause and erectile dysfunction. If there is some fundamental problem with all of us, then the problem is the same in YOU."

            "You reploids…" The MI9 agent snorted. "I swear, some more of you should have gone into televangelism. That way, nobody would listen to you."

            "Oh?" Doan queried, waving the tip of his beam lance through the air. "Then let me dumb it down for the masses. If there are no good reploids, there are NO GOOD HUMANS."

            "LIAR!!" The MI9 agent screamed, running towards Doan and striking with a blistering slash of his beam staff.

            Doan had to push back with all his strength to prevent the human from carrying through with the perilous slash. Through gritted teeth, the reploid who had had everything taken from him laughed.

            "About time you show some spunk…although, is that the bio-implants they gave you, or are you really tapping into that rage you're supposed to have??" Doan ignited his Flight Wing's thrusters and pushed the Reploid Hunter off balance. With one mighty punch, Doan decked the human in the chin and sent him flying off ten feet. And that was even with the shimmering EM field that flared about the human in his defense.

            The human managed to hold onto his weapon, but the blow Doan had given him was a serious one that left stars dancing in the fool's eyes.

            "You're so dead, reploid." The MI9 agent hissed as he came back up to his feet.

            Doan swung his saber around a bit and shut his eyes for a moment before opening them.

            And then cold, icy fury burned in his eyes.

            "Reploids and humans could have lived in peace. None of this should have happened. But you and the rest of your goddamned troupe of idealistic zealots had to throw everything away. You seek to create a world without reploids; I can't change that. But you'll have a hard time getting rid of us. We share your persistence for survival, we reploids…And right now, we're running on forces you yourself have feared for all your existence."

            "And just what would that be, abomination?"

            "Rage…desperation…defiance." Doan called back, his voice growing thicker. "You have pushed us closer and closer to the brink, and we totter on its edge. But you will not win so easily."

            "And why would that be?"

            "Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best, human." Doan called back, pulling himself into his attack stance. "Do not go quietly into that good night…rage, RAGE, against the dying of the light!!"

            The human absorbed the statement for a moment, then laughed.

            "In all our human endeavors has that statement never rung truer. But the light that would die stems not from you. It comes from us, those that created you and those that will unmake you."

            "And so it was that the Gods on Olympus faded from view, so assured of their superiority that humanity's dissolvation of their covenant destroyed them at once." Doan mused. He looked at the human. "So do you now claim that humans have become Gods?"

            "We have." The human sneered, charging towards Doan again with another wild slash.

            Doan parried the blow and jumped backwards, crouching low again.

            "Then you are truly doomed…" Doan mused. "It will not be by our hands that humanity will fade away…as much as you would not believe it, you will die by your own destructiveness."

            "Not before we have killed you." The MI9 agent snarled. 

            Doan stared at him with icy eyes. His beam lance came up higher.

            "Either I leave here alive…or we both will not."

            The rest of the forces that had been present at the MHHQ had managed to spread out to the city and warn the civilians. The reploids that could not fight had been moved to the underground caverns and waterways of New Tokyo, to hide away from the conflict whilst those that could fight remained behind.

            They now sat at the very fringe of New Tokyo, crouched on the crumbling buildings that stubbornly refused to fall. A grimfaced air hung about them all, a tense purveyance that only made them stand more on edge.

            The warrior reploids who were not as elite were dug in slightly to the North a bit more, put there to act as a barrier between the three hovertransports and the entrances that led to the catacombs of New Tokyo, where their downtrodden brethren lay shivering in wait. Gavin, Jad, Kol, J.K. Horn and Signas were with them.

            To the south, guarding the initial point of arrival of their foes was those who had no qualms about thrusting themselves headfirst into a battle that would probably claim their lives. Led by the greatest Maverick Hunter ever, Mega Man X now returned, Bastion, Willow, Kazok and Dash now waited.

            X's dull saddened eyes glimmered a bit.

            "Why didn't Doan run?? Why didn't he get out of there and back to reinforcements?"

            Bastion tilted his head over and looked at X.

            "He lost Cleo to these raids. He had a score to settle with the Reploid Hunters, and in the process he sought to eliminate the immediate threat of those juggernauts. Now they'll be forced to fight us in hand to hand combat."

            "Which most of us seem to excel at." Dash Blade growled, priming her TitaniTefloAlloy claws. Kazok smirked a bit as his love bared her fangs, then shook his head.

            "There are times I wonder…"

            "What?" X asked, looking to the former Maverick. Even now, The Blue Bomber of 21XX had a hard time dealing with the fact that the former Mavericks were now allied with the remnants of the Maverick Hunters. Kazok blinked his gray eyes.

            "All of this came about because Ice Beacon went off under our noses. Those that went had failed in whatever attempt to prevent it from going off. And this is the result. We're moments away from the final battle, hours away from the end of our kind…" Kazok shook his head. "But what if this wasn't supposed to happen? What if we just all failed, somehow? Failed to prevent this from coming about?"

            "Kazok, dear, there's little you can do now about that." Dash murmured, shaking her head. "Even if we did fail somehow, we can't change what's happened. We can only live for now, and try our best to live for tomorrow."

            "And what about you, X?" Bastion asked, turning to his former MHHQ superior. "What drives you now? Some sense of desperation, or vengeance? Do you fight for your own survival? Doan was willing to sacrifice himself to increase our odds of success. That is the legacy that blasted Ghost Wind has left us. But we were your legacy, X. The reploids. And we have slowly been killed."

            X looked older than anyone there at that point. Just the weariness in his eyes, the sadness in his face. Still, he absorbed Bastion's comments without flinching.

            Slowly, he reached up and took his helmet off, holding it down in the crook of his arm. Only Dash gasped in shock. The others remained eerily silent.

            Mega Man X stared at them all, that forlorn look not lost from his face. As a matter of fact, with his helmet removed it seemed deepened. Of course, his long flowing white hair would be an indicator of his sorrows. His once proud mane of black hair had bleached itself into death. And it had grown.

            The hair of the forefather of all reploids fell down to the small of his back and hung there. Limp and defeated, yet proud and defiant at the same time. As everyone looked at Mega Man X in his worn armor and newly revealed hair, he looked for all the world as the eldest and saddest creature of all time.

            "What is my legacy?" X asked quietly. "In part, all of you. But what I've done with my life is what will stand the test of time." He looked out to the horizon, and the hovertransports yet to come. "My father created me because he held a dream in his last days of a world where my kind and humans could live in peace. Where we could cooperate and grow stronger by one another's efforts. And I fought for that dream. I fought for a peace that seemingly never came. For thirteen long and hard years, I had to watch my friends die and my hands become bloodier and bloodier." 

            "And now that dream is gone. Despite all we ever tried, humans and reploids will never be able to live together. The cumulative effects of the Mavericks and whatever hit us a year and a half ago has shattered whatever opportunity existed. And this is the result." 

            X pulled his hair back, then put his helmet back on and turned to the others.

            "My legacy began with the reploid's race birth. And it will end when we are all gone and forgotten. We should have lived for far longer. We had the potential to do great things. But I've studied history when I wasn't creating it, and I know that after we're dead and gone, humanity will move on and forget about us. There will never be another age of reploids. There will never be another age of robots. It ends with us here."

            "Optimistic, aren't you?" Willow snorted. The Irish Banshee had grown only more acidic since she had arrived at the MHHQ a year ago. X just blinked with that empty stare.

            And then the hovertransports came.

            Underneath New Tokyo, the hordes of civilian reploids waited in anticipation. Of them all, only Hazil stood at the door, his rarely used Buster primed.

            Even farther into the makeshift catacombs, the others waited. Some wore armor. Some had no armor at all, by their design alone cursed to be without any means of protection. But none cried now. None of them could.

            The ex-MHHQ reploid at the door looked behind him to the huddled masses. Less than a hundred of them, most in no shape at all to fight. Most of them New Tokyo reploids in the first place…only here and there was there smatterings of 'foreign' reploids.

            Like Evinrude, who lay in a wheelchair with a blanket covering her lap. She wasn't as deeply hidden as some of the others, choosing instead to remain out with Hazil. The man who had given her hope again, even when everything else fell apart.

            Hazil looked at the European born reploid and smiled softly. She returned it, bobbing her head ever so slightly. Her love he reciprocated, fully and even more so. All he had done was save her life. She had saved what little remained of his fractured sanity and provided a glue to keep it together.

            Almost all the reploids who were civilian had a warped sense of hope. Survival no longer mattered anymore…not when so many of their kinsmen had fallen. They knew that their time would come. Instead, when life was no longer the hope that burned in one's heart, it was treasuring what was left of life. The simple joys, being able to wake up and treat each day as a full experience, and finding love. In the ruins of the once proud city, many male and female reploids had joined together, finding an odd sort of comfort and solace in one another. The unity of hearts, it seemed, had the power to block out the dismal state of life. If only for the moment when two became one.

            Hazil and Evinrude were two such reploids. Hazil would die for her, he knew that. He would die to save her. Life no longer mattered to the reploids. Only hope did.

            Hazil felt a shuddering from above rattle through the ground. His smile faded away, and he bowed his head for a moment. 

            "They're coming." He said.

            "I know." Evinrude replied quietly from her corner. She looked up to him. "But that no longer matters."

            "Little does anymore." Hazil agreed, with a tinge of a smile reborn on his face.

            "Fan out." Signas commanded. As he said it, he drew out his powerful beam foil, a variation of the beam saber with a thinner blade meant more for fencing than anything else. It ignited with a pale blue light, then sat and waited.

            At his words, the first attack wave of reploids shot forward. Bastion and Kazok took to the air, their respective antigravitational systems running at their full strength. Dash Blade and Willow and Mega Man X jumped off of the side of the ruined building and into the rubble filled streets below. 

            Reflexively, Signas pulled his comm up to his mouth. "Remember the plan."

            "Roger that, black sheep." Came the response from Dash Blade, ever the feraloid in both demeanor and action.

            Gavin, Jad and Kol led the charge with their own pack slightly off to the side of the main force, and the third group of warriors chose the other side.

            The hovertransports themselves swung in at full throttle, swinging about so that their noses faced away from the ruins of New Tokyo. It was then that the reploids struck.

            "GO!!" Signas commanded. The desired effect that the commander had hoped for worked. Willow and X Sight Warped behind the hovertransports, using dead reckoning alone to beam their bodies to their new location. Bastion and Kazok took to the air, using their antigravitational systems to push them above the hovertransports and into attack range before the humans could even blink in surprise. And finally, Dash Blade and J.K. Horn spread out to the sides, Horn holding a massive cannon of some sort that defied all rationality.

            The hovertransports didn't stand a chance. Kazok unloaded with a furious barrage of plasmafire on one of the craft, aided by the blistering Lightning Strike from Bastion's Flight Wings. X also used his Buster with great skill, targeting the sensitive nose area of his craft, while Willow bided her time by unloading every last one of her plasmic explosives into the midsection of the ship by the fuel supplies. And lastly, Dash Blade sat cautiously by while Horn leveled the monstrous device and fired a piercing beam cannon shot that went straight through the hovercraft from front to back, exploding technology as it went.

            The sudden attack's effect was immediate. Every last hovertransport went up in a fiery cloud of smoke, ash, and atomized particles. Some of the reploid warriors began to cheer a few seconds later, thinking that the battle was over.

            X looked up at the sky, then shook his head.

            "Something wrong?" Willow asked him, lifting an eyebrow. X laughed a bit.

            "It's not over." Every reploid who had kept their comm circuit open heard the Blue Bomber of 21XX's voice utter those words. Those who were cheering suddenly stopped. Those who had remained silent gained a new edge of ice in their stance.

            And then the killing began.

            Everywhere, surrounding the reploids in a circle of warp beams, the Reploid Hunters appeared, unscathed by the all too deadly attack of the reploid's prime task force.

            Signas cursed and dropped into a defensive stance as a beam saber came about towards his neck. "They sensed it! They warped out!!" He deflected the hammering strike, but had to jump back to avoid the followup slash. "Fan out and defend yourselves!!"

At what might be called the front, Horn, X, and Willow found themselves attacked by three Reploid Hunters. Two looked basic enough with their skintight body armor and beam sabers; but the one that caught Willow's eye obviously was the leader of the entire charade…His clothing was different than the others. It was like a thin black cloak of some kind, showing tears and gashes and tatters. Willow's eyes widened as she saw what they were doing; the two headed towards X, while the one in the shroud being closest to Horn suddenly brandished a weapon that caused fear to lump in her throat. But her voice remained solid.

            "HORN!!" Willow screamed, dashing towards him, beam whip pulled out and ignited within less than a second, whipping behind her.

            Too late…Too late did Horn catch what Willow meant and turned around. 

            Nothing could be done then. Horn had only then begun to widen his eyes in surprise and lift his cannon up. But the Reploid Hunter, armed with the shimmering black beam scythe showed no mercy.

            Like splitting a watermelon in half, the Reploid Hunter slammed his scythe through Horn's skull. What was left of Horn trembled for a moment, then collapsed as his torso slipped into its inevitable shutdown cycle, automatically seeking a way to prevent microfusion generator overload.

            Willow's dash thrusters gave out…she skidded to a halt and stared dumbly at the scene. Her attention was no longer on Mega Man X and his plight…it was on the destroyed remains of Julius Kinnian Horn, and the nightmarish figure standing above it, beam scythe held in triumph. It was then the Irish Banshee realized what the Reploid Hunter was dressed in…

            A death shroud. 

            Bastion and Kazok stood stunned for a few moments at what had happened, but then snapped out of it with fire burning in their eyes.

            "Damn them…Damn them to HELL!!!" Kazok screamed, plummeting towards the ground at a speed that would have been possible to attain without his gravicrystals. Buster formed in his hand, he fired off a blistering supershot and took out one of the Reploid Hunters immediately. But that drew in the attention of three more, all armed with magrifles. A pathetic weapon in most cases…But as they leveled to fire at the scourge who had just atomized their ally, Bastion swung down with his beam staff at the ready, all too aware of just how devastating their projectile weaponry could be in this case.

            "Kazok, FLY!!" Bastion barked, swerving behind the Reploid Hunters and striking down one, the human's EM field sparking in protest before it died and let Bastion sever the warrior in two with a fierce slash. The shriek was nearly unbearable, and would have been for a Bastion of a former age. But all the reploids on the battlefield now had hardened themselves to that sound over the long months…remembering that thousands of their brothers and sisters had died in far more twisted and sick ways allowed them to keep fighting.

            The other two, though, managed to fire before an enraged Bastion slammed into one and turned his dash boot thrusters on the other. The last human attacking Kazok fell to the ground, his face and clothes charred off to the bone by the blistering Dash Overdrive. Even as Kazok turned around in surprise, the magrifle rounds carried on, and met his antigravitational field. Surrounded by another electromagnetic enhancement field, the bullet's speeds only increased, gashing into Kazok and boring completely through him before exploding out of his back, two large exit wounds now very visible…and bleeding. Kazok gasped in pain, losing his mental control over his gravicrystals and collapsing to the ground as the black hexagonal pods drew to him with a sigh and snapped back into place around his waist.

            "KAZOK!!" Bastion cried out, face twisted in horror. He turned back around to the human he was grappling with and glared daggers.

            "You're all going to die today, you monsters…" The human grunted, forcing Bastion's hands away from his body and slowly winning out. Which meant this human was Enhanced. 

            "Go to HELL, MI9 scum!!" Bastion rasped, pushing back. The surprise of being discovered washed over the middle-aged human's face like cold water…and gave The Desert Angel just enough time to push down and snap the pathetic human's neck like brittle timber. A sudden instant of pain and further shock, and then the human's body fell limp, his bright eyes dulling and finally dying as his head's shattered support gave out. If Bastion had been as he was a year and a half ago, that pained gaze in the human's eyes as he stared up at his killer would have torn the ex-Maverick Hunter apart. But little could affect him anymore. Except, perhaps, his death.

            Bastion was by Kazok's side and lifting the badly damaged reploid up into the sky, held tightly in his arms.

            "Run a systems check." Bastion ordered curtly. Kazok coughed up a mouthful of reploid blood, then weakly chuckled a bit.

            "Like that would help me any…"

            "Just DO IT!!" Bastion demanded. The ex-Maverick sighed and did what he was told.

            **_Warning. Internal systems have been breached. Armor failure. Microfusion Tank has been punctured; temporary seal in place. Commence auto-stasis within five minutes or Microfusion Tank will destabilize. Internal Operations Energy is at 23%._**

**_            "I've got five minutes to live, Bastion." Kazok muttered grimly. "Bastards destabilized my core."_**

            "Go into auto-stasis then." Bastion replied. "Let your body recover from it." It was then that Kazok lifted his head up and shook it.

            "Do you really think we have that much time left??" 

            Bastion said nothing. Kazok shook his head. "Get me to Dash. If I'm going to die, then I'll die by her side."

            "The way that I should have died with Bristol." Bastion murmured underneath his breath. He sloughed off the sobering thought and cleared his throat. "Hold on, Kazok. And get that Buster of yours primed."

            Meanwhile, Signas and the two rear defense forces were having a much harder time of it. This was easily explainable, the suffering warriors found. The squad was half composed of humans which were obviously of MI9's make.

            Gavin brought his saber about and deflected the saber slash from one, grunting in dismay as he was promptly kicked backwards.

            "Status report!!" He barked into his comm. "Jad, Kol, give me the sitrep!!"

            "Jad's dead." Came the unexpectedly bitter reply of Kol, the more serious of the pair Gavin had kept away from him. "But so's the sonofabitch that got him." Gavin rolled away from the angry lash of his foe's beam saber and dashed into the human, pushing the sack of EM field protected flesh backwards and out of his hair for a moment. His eyes swiveled about, then latched onto the scene…

            What was left of Jad lay slashed to pieces on the ground, his lifeblood drained out of him and his ghostly face staring up into the sky with a pleading gaze. Beside him lay the human who had been Jad's killer, half of his body blown away by a massive wave of plasma. And above the two was Kol, who found himself trapped between two far too agile Reploid Hunters who were both sporting beam sabers.

            "I'm coming, Kol!!" Gavin cried out, dashing towards his friend. He shut off his thruster's safeties, doing a fantastic job of roasting the human behind him who had almost been ready to attack once more.

            Signas could do little except deal with one human. If anything, he was having a hard time even dealing with that. He wasn't a military grade reploid, he ran on heart and strategy alone…

            "Ha!! So you're the great n' mighty Signas, the GDC's prized reploid creation." His opponent sneered. "Boy, they shoulda shipped you back." Signas almost recoiled physically from the man's hicklike demeanor. But he shook his head and fought on.

            "You won't win so easily this day." Signas called back, swinging his beam foil about a few times before landing in his set position. "No, you shall not."

            "Oh?" The human chuckled a bit, his eyes twinkling in falsified mirth. "Whut makes ye think that?"

            "You're a poor swordsman." Signas snapped back. The human relaxed his pose, then shrugged his shoulders.

            In a flash of light, he vanished, causing a stunned Signas to stare about in search of his target.

            And then he arched his back and screamed as the same beam saber he had been faced with jammed through his back, grazing his spine and narrowly missing his microfusion generator. It blew apart the sole Heart Tank Signas had managed to keep operative, though…taking with it the precious extra Internal Operations Energy the strategist had come to rely on.

            He could smell the human's breath pouring on his neck…sour beer and rancid meat. And that same disgusting chuckle.

            "Weeyl, I may be a poor swordsman…but I'm a great backstabber."

            Horn had perished quickly; the Reploid Hunter had appeared behind him too fast for the aged reploid to block or dodge by any great length. Willow tried to take comfort in the fact he had died quickly…The black beam scythe had been gashed through his skull, cleaving his sentience and consciousness into oblivion in the first microseconds. Still, as his body lay there in a heap, his discarded heavy beam cannon lying beside the bludgeoned torso, Willow felt disgust and remorse for the fellow. She had called him friend…possibly even more than that, but the two had never had the time to pursue it. And he had died before any chance at possibility could be granted.

            _It happened to them all…__Bristol__, Wycost, Tarkin, Pharaoh Man…Even Fannir was twisted by their sick wills. All for what?! MI9's grand dreams??_

_            Something more burned in her then, something she couldn't quite explain._

            The damned human, obviously of MI9's ilk, even had the gall to wear a black death shroud about his body as if he was death incarnate, using his beam scythe to reap fields of grain. Or in this case, reploids.

            _One more dead…one more gone because I couldn't…I couldn't…_

_            "You killed him." Willow uttered. The shock drained from her face, and an emotionless pallor took over. Slowly, she lifted her head up and stared into the Reploid Hunter's hood. She caught a hint of a sick smile. "You killed him."_

            The figure shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to be enjoying watching the shell shock slip over her. Willow began to tremble a bit, but somehow pulled up enough conscious will that she didn't collapse to her knees.

            "You killed them all." She continued, staring at him. Strangely, the unnatural calm in her voice didn't unnerve him. Almost as if he expected it. "And you'll never stop, will you? Until we're all dead, and even then…" 

            She reached her free hand up and pointed at him. "You truly do think you're the reaper. But what do you reap? Those you believe to be unfit for life? Or those who have only lived better than you could ever hope to??"

            The reaper shrugged again. And finally, Willow's face lost that emotionless stare. She gained anger…the only emotion she'd truly had ever since she had regained her memories of Bristol and MI9 and began her search for the one that could doom the world.

            "DAMNIT, SAY SOMETHING!!" The reaper finally chuckled.

            "And just what would you have me say?" He finally replied, his voice carrying a distinctive timbre in it.

            So distinctive that shock replaced Willow's anger. The reaper's free hand came up and pushed back the death shroud's hood, revealing the face underneath. It was a face Willow had hoped never to see again.

            "Jowers."

            "So nice to see you still remember your executioner." Jowers said, his failed attempt at mirth only adding to the stony silence of his personality. "But I'm sorry that there's no time for idle chitchat. We still have to get to the business at hand of killing you and all your bastard kind. Both for past sins and future ones."

            Willow narrowed her eyes and brought her beam whip up in front of her, where it coiled like a serpent waiting to strike. "Of all the Original MI9 Enhanceds, only you survive. Those damned fools Geoffrey and Tim bit off more than they could chew early on."

            "And don't think for a moment that I've forgotten that fact." Jowers growled, waving his beam scythe about in front of him in a few test swings. "You killed friends in those days. Your friends killed my friends. For that, you shall never be forgiven. The rest of humanity is content to simply do away with the entire reploid race; But I and the rest in MI9 forever damn your souls to burn in a thousand places of eternal torment."

            "Strong words from somebody who's about to face the Banshee." Willow called back, her green eyes narrowing into slits. "My voice sounds the doom of those who would defy me."

            "Enough talk, you Irish Wench." Jowers snapped. "Now is the time to die."

            "At least we agree on that point then!" Willow called back, launching herself forward, beam whip raised to strike.

            Dash Blade disposed of the Reploid Hunter closest to her; what plasma claws could be deflected by, TitaniTefloAlloy ones cut right through. The human female almost looked like a fish gasping for water as her punctured lungs frothed and bubbled, bringing bright red aerated blood to gurgle at her mouth. The Feraloid dropped the destroyed carcass of meat to the ground and let her senses take over, waiting for another target to come within range.

            Bastion and Kazok got to her first. Slowly, Bastion descended, dropping Kazok's body to the ground until the ex-Maverick's footing became stable enough to support his weight.

            "Kazok!!" Dash called out in worry, running beside him. Bastion tilted one of his wings and fired off another Lightning Blast, obliterating a Reploid Hunter who was coming too close to them. 

            Weakly, the gravicrystal wielding reploid looked up to his love, hand held across his chest wounds.

            "Hey, babe." Dash looked over to Bastion.

            "What happened?"

            "Magrifle rounds. His core's been punctured." Bastion stated flatly.

            Dash's face fell at the statement. Anything else could be repaired…but a punctured microfusion tank meant immediate stasis…or a quick and blazing death by self-destruction.

            "You two gonna be all right?" Bastion asked quickly. Dash breathed in for a moment, then nodded her head.

            "Yeah, we got it covered here. Go help out the others."

            "Already on it." Bastion replied, tapping the side of his tarnished open helmet. Two screen visors drew in from the outside and clicked together with a snap, flickering for a moment as the displays came online. Effectively, Bastion's eyes were now protected by a thick barrier of highly damage resistant(And wind shear resistant) visor. Early in its use, it had been pink. Now it shone a bright blood red. In a blur of red and orange, Bastion vanished from Dash and Kazok and back up into the air, where he could hopefully get a bird's eye view of the situation. Three Reploid Hunters began to close in on Dash and Kazok below.

            The Feraloid dropped into her stance for a moment…then felt a hand grasp her own. She looked over to a weakened Kazok, who now breathed shallowly out of need. Even beads of sweat were beginning to appear on his brow.

            "Whatever happens, Dash…know that I loved you."

            "The same here, you freak." The Feraloid answered back with a sigh. "But I'm not planning on dying quite yet.

            With Kazok grounded and by Dash, Bastion knew he was the only one left who could fly up and get a view of the whole picture. Which is exactly what he did, lifting himself up on the closest thing to angel's wings he'd ever be granted.

            Everywhere he looked, the situation was bad. The Reploid Hunters had had this all planned. It was too late for Signas…too late for Doan way out in the middle of nowhere. Horn was dead, and Willow was locked too deeply in combat that went deeper than mere survival. But X…

            In a blur, Bastion shot over to X and fired off another lightning bolt from his wingtips, scorching one of the two Reploid Hunters trying to defeat the Blue Bomber of 21XX.

            The other turned about in shock and fear…and then was promptly blown away from behind by X's supershot.

            Bastion landed and shook his hair out again. "You okay?"

            "I've had worse." X managed with a grimace. But there was no hiding the deep gash alongside his waist where a beam saber had struck by.

            "Bastion, we're all dying. They were too much for us…"

            "NO." Bastion barked, his eyes flickering with sudden fire. "I'm not about to believe that!!"

            "Believe what?" X retorted.

            "That we were destined to all die this day!!!" Bastion shot back. He pointed to X and stabbed a finger in his chest. "Just look at yourself, X!! Look at what you've become!!"

            X stared numbly back at him. Bastion shook his head.

            "You've changed, X. And not for the better. I know it's been tough, everything about this…but you're not the only one who's suffered. We've all had friends and loved ones perish because of this stupidity. We all KNOW that some day it will end and the last of us will fade away. WE KNOW THAT. But do you know what the difference between us and you is??"

            "What?" X replied quietly. 

            Bastion merely shook his head and looked to the battle.

            "The difference is…WE HAVEN'T GIVEN UP. And admit it. Before Zero died to protect you, you felt the same."

            "He might have been able to stop this…" X murmured.

            "What, and you think you're any less capable?" Bastion shot back bitterly. "Bullshit. I know the history of the Maverick Hunters. And I know that at the very beginning, when Sigma went Maverick and started the First Uprising, you stopped him. And even in the Second Uprising…you stopped them all. And each time you started those Uprisings, you went without your armor. The only thing missing from now and then is very simple; your fire, X. You've lost your fire."

            Bastion shut his mouth and waited for some sign from the progenitor of the reploid race…a sign that never came.

            Disgustedly, Bastion exhaled and shook his head again.

            "We fight to live. We know how bad it is, but we keep on fighting. But you, X…you've already died on the inside. So what does that say of that speech you gave in the MHHQ, then? When you pledged to fight with us? Till the very end, no matter what? Was that all false, just a lie made up by a hollow shell to remind himself of the better days?" Bastion lifted up into the air slightly, his brown hair waving in the wind. "In everything that happened, we never lost hope that someday you and Zero would come back to us. Even as you told us that Zero was dead, we held out hope that at least one of the Legendaries was back in our midst, ready to serve and protect. But now I see the truth, a truth only this age of darkness could reveal." Bastion turned about and shook his head, smouldering eyes burning into X's face. "You're dead as well."

            The Desert Angel took off, his two beam sabers in hand as he rallied to the rear defense line, hoping with some small part of his spirit that there was still enough time…enough time to blunt the charge and prevent the Reploid Hunters from finding Hazil and the civilians.

            All his hopes were dashed when a large explosion blasted away the ground to reveal the caverns underneath…and a ring of Reploid Hunters prepared to jump down into the darkness that held the final glimmering sparks of light in their world.

            And as for X…

            By now, the other Reploid Hunters had moved on, were ignoring him for the moment. The other reploids were making more mess, and perhaps there was fear that prevented the murderous humans from drawing too near to 'the one'.

            And that gave him time. Time enough to clench his hands and shut his eyes.

            "Zero…"

            _Zero, what do I do now??_

_            He already knew what Zero would scream at him. **FIGHT, X!!! **_

**            _And father…what would you say now, when everything's fallen apart??_**

_            No answer came. No answer from Dr. Light, by capsule or dream had come to X since before Ice Beacon's launching. And none came now. _

_Father…why have you forsaken me??_

_            X lifted his head back up and stared at the battleground once more. _

            Reploids fought and died, in a futile effort to eliminate the Reploid Hunters before their race was exterminated. They didn't fight for honor, or for glory. They didn't fight for money or morals or religion. 

            They fought for life. In a nightmare that would never end, the last of the reploids fought for life.

            And then X knew. The realization hit him, his purpose shone clear. A single ray of sunlight parted the clouds, if only for a moment, and shone upon him.

            "Until we meet again…" X murmured, priming his Buster once more and drawing in a charge. He looked to the battleground again, then screamed long and loud as his dash thrusters took him into the fray.

            _If I should die before I wake…_

_            I pray my soul to take._

            Signas, X, and Zero all walked into the MHHQ's War Room together, purpose shining in their faces. It was a look that caused the truly alert techs in the room to perk their heads up in wonder, staring at the marching enclave and wondering with all of their intelligence just what was going on.

            Just the day before, X and Zero wouldn't have been caught dead marching with Signas. But now they were stepping in perfect synch with him.

            One of the techs in the room, a spiderish looking reploid by the name of Yarn clicked his mandibles together.

            "Hey X, what did he drug ya with?" The Blue Bomber of 21XX looked over, then smirked a bit and shook his head.

            "Nothing…just keep quiet and watch the fireworks." Signas walked over to the tech at the main communications panel and tapped the busybody's shoulder. The tech spasmed for a moment, then looked up as if his skeleton had jumped out of his body.

            Signas calmly stared at the MHHQ employee, a basic humanoid class with horn rimmed glasses. "What's your name?"

            "Willard, sir." The tech responded. Signas nodded in affirmation.

            "Very well then, Willard. Open up the comm circuits and broadcast a signal on every known frequency at maximum power." Willard's eyes boggled, the motion only enhanced by the spectacles he suddenly felt the need to push farther up his nose.

            "Exsqueeze me?!" He sputtered. Zero came over and harrumphed at the worker, a slight glimmer of impatience in his eyes.

            "You heard him. Do it." 

            Willard swallowed his pride and did just that, then turned around and handed the wireless transmitter to Signas.

            "You have the comm."

            "Worst joke EVER, Will!" Yarn called out from across the room, mandibles clicking in what might have been a laugh. Willard rolled his eyes, then motioned for the new General of the Maverick Hunters to talk.

            But Signas deferred, handing the transmitter to X. He nodded once at the blue/green eyes soul.

            "It's all yours, X." Zero snickered and nodded.

            "You heard the man. Give 'em Hell." X nodded, then clicked the transmit switch.

            "This is Mega Man X at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters, transmitting on all known frequencies. I'm issuing a challenge to Sigma and his band of Mavericks for one last duel…if you all accept, call back. You still know the number, I'm sure." He finished with some measure of deadpan humor in his voice.

            He clicked the transmitter off and waited. From his seat, Yarn stretched his arms.

            "You sure the bastard's gonna call back??"

            X just smiled.

            In the Greenland URFAWP built base, Sigma was surprised to find his communications equipment ringing off of the hook. He frowned for a moment, then tapped the controls a few times.

            "Hmm…multifrequency overlay. Nice." Sigma muttered. "Somebody is trying to get someone's attention." He clicked the 'receive' switch and waited.

            _"This is Mega Man X at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters, transmitting on all known frequencies. I'm issuing a challenge to Sigma and his band of Mavericks for one last duel…if you all accept, call back. You still know the number, I'm sure."_

            Sigma's mouth twitched as he heard it.

            **_So, X wishes to toy with me?? The fool._**

            He lifted his head up and tapped in the bases' intercom.

            "Mavericks, report to the War Room."

            Every last one of them, even Iris, managed to make it to the room in under thirty seconds. Sigma smiled on the inside. They were punctual today.

            "My Mavericks, we've just been given the gauntlet by one Mega Man X at the Maverick Hunters." He played the message for them.

            Naturally, Shell and Cumulus were enraged. Of the six Mavericks Sigma had brought back from slumber, it was those two that held the shortest tempers. Dash…well, Dash was different. She found a way to temper that rage into a sharper blade than her claws provided. Iris just looked to Sigma with those clear sparkling eyes and waited for an answer.

            "I'm inclined to accept his challenge." Sigma said with finality in his voice. "And this time, it is my turn to lead the pack." No complaints were issued, so Sigma nodded his head and turned around to the screen. With a few more keystrokes, he opened a steady comm channel to the MHHQ…once he'd bounced his signal off of nearly every relay satellite in orbit.

            "We got a bite!!" Willard exclaimed, clapping his hands together in excitement. X's eyes turned to meet Signas's, who simply nodded his head.

            "I hope you're right about this one, Signas."

            "I hope so too." The General of the Maverick Hunters issued back. Zero snorted.

            "Now THERE'S a confidence builder."

            "Zero, shut up." X murmured. He turned to Willard. "Go ahead and open the channel."

            In a blink of light and the flare of electrons, the plasma screen above them came on, revealing Sigma and every last one of his Mavericks…even Iris, who stood defiantly by the Maverick King with her small hand resting on top of his mammoth one.

            "Greetings to all my friends at the MHHQ." Sigma said perfunctorily. "I thought it best to reply to your message…but know that there is no way you can trace our signal."

            "Wasn't my idea." X spat back, disgust burning in his eyes. "You and I long ago ran out of fuel to throw our fires of reason and morality at each other, so this time I'm going to make it simple. The Maverick Hunters are throwing a challenge at the Mavericks. Us against you, on a battlefield of our choosing."

            "Hmm, I see…" Sigma rumbled, rubbing at his chin. "A battlefield of your choosing. Is that because you're fed up with us always instigating the first blow?"

            "The river runs deep, Sigma." X shot back.

            "So does the forest, dear contemplative X." Sigma retorted. "In any case, we accept. My Mavericks and I will show you the error of your ways and clean the world of your wretched warrior race." Sigma looked deeper into the figures present on his viewscreen, then grinned at Zero. "I do hope you'll be at this fight, Zero. Lady Iris here still has not yet concluded her business with you."

            Zero looked at Iris for a long moment, then shook his head sadly. "Iris, what has he done to you??" He asked quietly. 

            "Shown me the truth." Iris snapped angrily. "This time around, you shall not kill me for defending Sigma or his beliefs. This time around, I will destroy you."

            X winced at her words, then turned to look at Zero. The destroyed look on his face was all too clear of the pain her words had resurrected in him.

            But then the pain vanished. Anger took its place. Zero turned his head to Sigma, eyes burning a bright green, and the hint of something more…

            "Sigma, you'll pay for what you've done."

            "We shall see." Sigma mused humorlessly. "In any case. X, just where would you wish to hold this little soirée??"

            "We'll meet at the place where you and I first crossed swords." X said simply. "We'll meet you on the rim of Hokkaido Island, where your Flying Fortress was born from."

            "The one you destroyed, you mean…" Sigma replied. He rubbed at his chin once more. "Very well. We shall see you then tonight. That should give you, and whoever else you were thinking of inviting, ample enough time to pray for their souls before we throw them into the seas."

            The comm channel clicked off with a resounding snap, and then the War Room faded back to its normal dim lighting.

            Zero turned to X, face burning.

            "Sigma is mine, X. What he's done to Iris…I can never forgive him for." X held his tongue inside of his mouth for a while, looking intently into the face of his longtime friend.

            There was a fire that only vengeance could quench.

            "He's yours then." X said simply. "But please, be careful."

            "I'll be myself." Zero stated bluntly. The Crimson Hunter turned to Signas and pointed with his index finger. "And your plan had better work. I want Sigma and the Mavericks dead."

            "Even Iris?" Signas asked, even more bluntly than Zero usually spoke. The Crimson Hunter lost his edge of madness there. "No, I didn't think so. Let me make a wager here…at one time, she was something more than a friend to you, wasn't she?"

            "Yeah." Zero murmured, the rest of his anger fading away. "And then she died."

            "And now Sigma's brought her back again, just to torment Zero." X finished.

            Signas moved his eyes up to the ceiling, then shook his head.

            "It's not the same Iris, Zero. She looks like the Iris you know…but it is not the same one. As long as you never lose sight of that, you stand a chance."

            "A chance of what?"

            "Surviving." Signas stated flatly. "Zero, as hard as it may sound, this is one time where your emotions can only get you hurt. Be careful out there. Don't engage Iris, if that is the problem. Avoid her, deal only with those you know you can take with your full force of will to guide you." Signas blinked his eyes a few times, then sighed. "Well, that's done. Call in the elites of the Hunters. We have much planning to do, and little time to implement it."

            Black beam staff and brilliant green beam lance crashed together, raging with the forces of thunder and tempest. A reploid and an MI9 elite Enhanced met head on, each boiling with the rage of their species. Anger became strength, strength became will and focus…and will and focus drove them to fight to ever increasing crescendo.

            Doan's eyes remained steadfastly open, refusing to blink even as errant plasma from the fringes of his beam lance wisped off like vapor from dry ice. The human also seemed unfazed; and just in the way that he wielded his beam staff showed the human had trained with considerable skill and mastery with the weapon. The fact that Doan hadn't been able to land a single strike showed that the MI9 Enhanced had trained in many of the martial arts Doan himself had picked up over his years; including that damnable variation of Bojitsu somebody had made for beam weaponry.

            No words. Just action. Every flex of their muscles, every twitch of their eyes became as malediction in a place where sound became muddled and drowned by the roaring of the blood in their ears.

            Doan couldn't chance his Saber Extend; his weapon was already at half power, and that particular skill would knock down his energy reserves even more. He needed all the power his beam lance could provide, the way this battle was going.

            Every thrust of his was met with a deflection; then the other end of the beam staff would swing up and threaten to gash his arm, forcing Doan to pull back his blade and go on the defensive. 

            In short, the Enhanced was slowly winning. It defied logic, it defied reason…

            _Reploids were built to be better than humans…There is no way I should be losing!!_

_            Doan gritted his teeth as his mind screamed that simple statement of plausible reason. But it didn't change anything._

            "You're talented for one of your kind." The MI9 Enhanced grunted, leaping over Doan with his staff twirling about to parry the Ghost Wind's lance thrusts. He landed on the other side, then smirked a bit. "But you're not talented enough."

            Doan charged at him with another scream, forcing his body and mind into overdrive…

            Thrust. Block. Parry. Thrust. Parry. Duck. Roll. Leap. Thrust. Stab. Thrust. Sidestep.

            SLICE.

            Before the human's eyes, his beam staff was sliced in half, taking with it two fingers from his right hand. The MI9 Enhanced screamed and jumped backwards, gripping at the cauterized wound. Still, he didn't lose a hold of the one part of his beam staff which was still operational…now just a very odd looking beam saber.

            Doan drew in a long breath, then exhaled, letting himself relax a bit and release the tension of that last furious strike. He looked at the MI9 agent and shook his head.

            "Fuck talent." He snapped. "This battle is about survival." The human looked up, his eyes burning with pain and focused fury.

            "Yessss…" The human slurred, tightening his left hand's grip around the only surviving portion of his weapon. "Survival. But you won't LIIIVE!!!!"

            The human's feet slammed into the ground, taking him towards Doan at a furious pace. Doan lit his Flight Wing's thrusters and streaked at the same speed.

            The flash from their beam weapons connected and exploded, the opening strike so furious that an errant plasmaburst erupted from the slight destabilization of the electromagnetic fields that gave the dangerous beam blades their distinctive shape.

            The screams and hisses from the two beam sabers connecting could be heard for nearly half a kilometer distant. Even closer, one could hear the screams. Closer still, one could see them, two figures dancing about with flaring blades that glowed unholy light upon accursed soil. And as they fought, the two drew nearer and nearer to the rocky shores, and the crashing waves and jagged rocks below.

            Slowly but surely, the tempo died down. Fury and adrenaline gave out to exhaustion and fatigue. And at last, the two warriors found themselves staring each other, tottering on the precipice to a long fall below.

            Doan stared at the human, breathing in a feeble attempt to feed extra power to his microfusion generator. The human did the same, but for him the oxygen went to his burning lungs.

            On both, sweat beaded their brows and dripped into their eyes. But neither could tear their gazes away from one another.

            With one unison scream, the warriors flung themselves forward, beam lance and saber held high…

            And in one collective gasp, they fell away from each other after collision.

            Numbly, the human stared down at the beam lance thrust through his chest…through his heart exactly. He looked up at Doan with a glazed look, then fell backwards and collapsed into death, his stubborn body finally giving out from the vaporization of his heart. The beam lance embedded into him shut itself off only half a moment before he fell dead onto the rocky, unfertile soil.

            And as for Doan, the reploid who had suffered all and given all, he found himself stumbling backwards as well, losing his balance and falling off the cliffside. The beam saber through his microfusion generator had sealed his fate.

            **_Warning. Microfusion generator has been punctured. 0% chance of sealant. Ten seconds to Microfusion generator explosion._**

**_In other words, Doan thought through his dizzied mind, __I'm dead no matter what._**

            His wings remained unresponsive…as they well should, seeing as the same beam saber that had handed him his death sentence had also slagged the neural controls of his wings. So he fell. Arms and legs outstretched in his last moments, he fell to the sea below.

            But as his head, forever looking above to that same gray sky and the cliff from which he'd fallen, decided to blink, he saw something appear from the clouds…something that followed him all the way down.

            It was a person he'd never forgotten about…a person who had died long ago.

            _CLEO…_

_            The female reploid Doan had called his love followed Doan down, a broad smile on her face as she held out her arms. Behind her, emerging from the back of that wonderful sunfaded yellow dress she had always wistfully described, a pair of wings emerged._

            _My angel…has come to take me away…_

_            "Cleo…" Doan murmured. And in his last moments, as he continued to fall, he held out his arms, reaching for her in that single moment of clarity._

            Warmth filled him…and then his mind shut down.

            Doan was dead before his aged frame hit the crashing, foamy waves and the craggy rocks.

            What survived of that initial impact exploded in a brilliant spherical fireball of white light, illuminating the darkness for one brief moment before fading away.

            In the house known as Earth, another candle was snuffed out.

            And nobody wept.

            Hazil was prepared that the civilian reploids would be discovered; that nearly went without saying. 

            What he'd not prepared himself for, though…Was the fact that the Reploid Hunters would come knocking as loudly as they did.

            Before his very eyes, and the eyes of Evinrude as well, the love of his life that had chosen to stay by the entrance with him, the sealed overhead hatch was blown down into the concrete that they stood with the force of a resounding explosion that would have shattered their eardrums…if their hearing was affected by differentials in air pressure. As it was, they only received a long blossoming of fire that accompanied the acrid smell of high explosives tearing through the barrier.

            Hazil could hear the cries from farther inside the catacombs; the screams of those who could not defend themselves. Those yawps gave him strength; strength enough to ready his rarely used Buster and turn to Evinrude.

            His lady merely bowed her head; awaiting whatever fate would come. Still, Hazil could almost pick up on her spirit calling out to him.

            _Whatever happens, Hazil…We always have our love._

            "YOU SHALL NOT TAKE THEM!!!" Came a sudden scream from above. Hazil blinked in consternation, then dashed over closer to the jagged hole the Reploid Hunters had blasted into the Catacombs. Staring above, he found the source of the voice; it was indeed Bastion.

            Three of the Reploid Hunters who were planning to jump down the hole and attack the innocents found themselves blasted into quivering piles of charred flesh by the lightning wing blasts of Bastion's Flight Armor. One turned about too late to defend and was sliced in half, his EM field no match for the saber…and it's user's…momentum.

            And then the other five Reploid Hunters about the hole finally began to react, turning their weapons on Bastion. Hazil lifted his Buster and fired at point blank range; one more Reploid Hunter went down without even realizing he was being targeted from behind.

            If Bastion noticed Hazil's aid, he didn't show it. With fire in his eyes and the sands of destruction waving in his grainy brown hair, the Desert Angel swung himself into the special technique Hazil easily recognized as Bastion's "Whirling Slasher"…

            The ex-Maverick Hunter transformed himself into a gyroscopically spinning wheel of destruction, easily claiming one more and setting the other three on their guard.

            But that was when Bastion's frantic attack ended. One of the three surviving Reploid Hunters pulled up a magrifle and fired off a staccato burst of shots, all dead on target.

            The EM fields of his wings only drew the shots in closer and with greater speed…

            But unlike Kazok, who had been taken to death by a similar barrage, Bastion only got one of his wings shot off.

            The other lost control of Bastion's flight, and the Desert Angel suddenly found himself plummeting to the ground and skidding along at the incredible pace of his flight. And then he screamed.

            Hazil could feel the Desert Angel's pain as he fell like Icarus, with his wings burned off…skipping along the ground like a stone at three hundred miles an hour did little to benefit the health of a person.

            One of the Reploid Hunters, the one who had fired the magrifle, dropped down the newly created shaft and landed in front of Hazil, startling the medical reploid.

            Blindly, Hazil fired bullet after plasma bullet.

            And just as calmly, the Reploid Hunter pulled out a beam dagger and deflected nearly all the shots. Those that connected fizzled out angrily against an EM shield that wouldn't die.

            The male Reploid Hunter, with cold black hair and even colder gray eyes gave Hazil a look of pure disgust before he lifted up his magrifle again.

            "One less monster…" He said, in an almost sterile tone.

            Hazil didn't hear the gunshot…but he felt the high caliber magrifle round tear through his neck and sever his spinal column from his head. He fell dead moments later, his Microfusion generator shutting down without the commands of his brain to control anything.

            Evinrude said nothing, even as the Reploid Hunter turned on her next and ended her life the same way.

            Above, Bastion found himself almost unable to move.

            **_Warning: Critical armor failure. Starboard Angel's Advantage wing has been severed. Internal Operations Energy at 34%. All motor functions at 10% efficiency. Seek immediate repair._**

**_As if I could just ask them to just leave me alone while I recovered, right??_**

_            The two other Reploid Hunters approached Bastion slowly, moving with menacing steps. He could feel their malice rising off of them as they approached…a malignant force that threatened to choke him with its darkness. They seemed to enjoy watching him struggle to rise to his knees._

            But then they were upon him. In one stroke of a beam saber, Bastion's other wing was clipped off as well. That time he screamed…because the human had taken a part of his shoulder off as well.

            The two chuckled and kicked him onto his back, exposing his vulnerable front to their piercing eyes and far more piercing beam sabers. And then they stood, looking down on him with disgust and that same malice.

            "Well, gee…I guess we clipped angel boy's wings here."

            "Guess that means he doesn't get to go to heaven then." The other sighed. The first one snorted.

            "Small loss." 

            Bastion looked up at them, unable to move in his defense…his beam sabers lay ten feet distant, well beyond his reach. He couldn't even move his arms quickly enough to deflect any blows.

            He was at their mercy.

            But they would give him none.

            "Well, if he can't fly, I guess that means he'll just have to walk." The first one continued dolefully. The second's eyes gleamed at the statement…Bastion felt the beam saber dig into his legs, slice them both off at the knees, leaving him with useless, half-cauterized stumps. He trembled where he lay, but as his mouth came open for a scream, Bastion found he didn't have the energy to.

            _Mercy…_

_            "You mean he'll be walking with his hands." The second one finished with a dark chuckle. "Because those stumpy things ain't gonna do SHIT anymore."_

            **_Warning. Legs have been severed. Seek immediate repair. Auto stasis function…Inoperative. Auto stasis mode cannot be attained. Seek immediate repair._**

**_            "But you know what they say about a reploid, Lem." Earl continued, hefting his beam saber up a few times before grasping it firmly._**

            "No Earl, what do they say about a reploid??"

            "Never trust a reploid that's still got his hands." Earl finished gleefully.

            Bastion shuddered once more, arching his back off of the ground as they sliced off his arms at the elbows.

            _It ends somewhere for all of us…_

_            Feverishly, the Desert Angel tried to push past the pain of being torn limb from limb. A difficult proposition at best, yet somehow he managed it…_

            **Access Microfusion Generator controls.**

**            _Affirmative. Microfusion Generator Controls Open. Command??_**

**_            Set for immediate overload, 15 second detonation time._**

**            _Warning: Will result in death. Confirm??_**

**_            Confirm it, you pathetic…_**

**            _Confirmed. 15 seconds until Microfusion Generator Detonation. _**

**_            The control program inside his mind…the thing that allowed Bastion to examine his internal structure with a simple mental query in its last moments, asking him to confirm whether or not he wanted to die in a fiery explosion. If he was healthier, Bastion would have found it ironic. But now…_**

            Lem easily picked up Bastion's torso and head by the ruffled mop of hair sitting on top of it, clicking his tongue in disgust as he looked at the torn and jagged synthskin across the reploid's face.**__**

**_            "Boy, we're almost doing him a favor killing him like this." He joked. Earl shrugged._**

            "The way you say that almost tempts me to just leave him here to die like the pathetic wretch he is." 

            Bastion opened his mouth, the faintest of whispers coming out. Lem frowned, then snickered.

            "I think robot boy here wants to say something, Earl."

            **_7 Seconds until detonation…6…5…4…_**

**_            "Aaw, he does??" Earl chortled, drawing next to Lem and staring Bastion in the face, breathing his rancid breath onto the ruined face of one of the Reploid Race's brightest stars. "Go on, you sonofabitch. Say something."_**

            **_3…2…_**

**_            "You're…" Bastion began weakly. Lem and Earl drew their faces nearer still. "…Coming with me…"_**

            Lem and Earl only had time to blink in slight confusion. Recognition never even came to them.

            **_1…0._**

            Bastion, Lem and Earl all vanished together in a massive atomic fireball.

            Thus ended one more valiant warrior…with no body left for surviving Reploid Hunters to butcher for their sick fancies. With him went the spirits of two longtime bigots who had found a place in the twisted world.

            And the battle raged on.

            Signas had one thing above all else; a mind that never stopped thinking. Thoughts, conjectures, ideas, plans and strategies always buzzing inside his cranium.

            Even now, as the Reploid Hunter's beam saber was embedded straight through him, sticking out of his chest like some joke, Signas continued to think.

            **_Warning. Internal operations energy at 35%. Prepare for auto-stasis._**

**_            Negative. Override auto-stasis._**

**            _Overriding of auto-stasis may result in complete mental death. Confirm Y/N??_**

**_            YES._**

**            _Affirmative. Auto-stasis override enforced. Be advised; Heart Tank shows critical failure._**

**_            "You reploids." The Reploid Hunter spat out angrily. He twisted the beam saber inside of Signas, causing further injury and a half choked cry from the weakened frame. "You thought you were all high and mighty…when the simple truth is, you die just as easily as we all do."_**

            "At the same time…we die with purpose." Signas uttered back. He glanced at the beam rapier in his hand, then shook his head. "We all die…with purpose."

            In one swift movement, he brought his beam rapier up and drove it straight through his own body, plunging it up to the hilt and keeping the power on. 

            He heard the human's choked cries of surprise and pain milliseconds later; felt the warm, sticky wetness of the human's blood being coughed up onto the back of his neck as the human's lungs boiled and shrank. Signas twisted his own blade downwards…Finally hitting what he knew beyond all doubt was the human's black heart.

            Both the beam saber and beam rapier shut themselves off not long after that…both warriors had lost their grip on the trigger switches.

            Both collapsed. But Signas fell with a sad smile on his face.

            "It…is done…"

            _Even in death…purpose._

_            We had a purpose. And now mine is finished._

_            **Complete mental shutdown imminent; no chance of revival.**_

**_It's never a good DAY to die…_**

_            Signas lifted his head up to the gray cloudy skies above._

            _But perhaps…perhaps it's a good time to._

            The circle around Kol was too thick, too well armed and too capable. For all of Gavin's speed and screams, he could do nothing as the Buster wielding reploid who had worked with him for all of his career was torn apart, riddled by magrifle rounds and slashed to ribbons by scores of beam sabers.

            "BASTARDS!!!" Gavin screamed, charging into the nearest Reploid Hunter with a powerful shoulder charge, sending the human flying into the pack. It was too late…too late for Kol…

            But that had triggered a transformation. In a sudden shift, Gavin became more powerful than he'd ever been in his life. His body's every safety removed, his every sense heightened beyond normalcy. 

            He moved with his dash boots spouting continuous fire and his eyes burning like diamonds in the night. And nobody in that circle of murderers could touch him.

            Nobody. They tried, heavens they tried. Those with magrifles were the first to respond, lifting their projectile weapons and firing at near point blank range. Gavin merely ducked and weaved around the high impact, high velocity rounds, taking no time to notice that those Reploid Hunters behind him were torn apart by the blasts meant for him. With one mighty Saber Extended slash, the entire lot of them were sliced in two, collapsing as legs and screaming torso.

            The nearest melee Reploid Hunter charged at Gavin with his beam saber…no, STAFF…Aloft in the air for a strike upon the infidel.

            Gavin lifted his orange saber high and deflected the black blade as it came down, jumping the followup sweep and jamming his saber in for one last merciless kill. The orange tinted plasma blade buried itself into the human's throat after burning its way through the thin EM shield about his body…

            That look of abject fear and pain in the human's eyes as his throat collapsed on him made Gavin almost sick. Almost sick of what he'd become…what they had FORCED him to become. But he fought on.

            Quickly, he air dashed into the air, pulling his weapon out from the defeated corpse and staring below him to the massed forces. Gavin bared his teeth at the suddenly frightened mob below…but then his eyes picked up the glint of something distant. With one flicker of his eyes, he moved his gaze up to the faraway sight.

            And there it was…

            A sniper with an extremely accurate magrifle, set on a scope. Gavin could tell by the sniper's posture who the target was.

            He said nothing. There was nothing to say. The glint had been the firing of the shot…

            Dully, Gavin felt the impact as it tore through his forehead. And then he felt nothing.

            Below, the Reploid Hunters cheered as Gavin's entire head exploded like a walnut. A metallic one.

            Dash Blade and Kazok Gravor proved to be more dangerous than any of the Reploid Hunters surrounding them had originally wagered. Yet at the same time, their greater numbers made it inevitable for victory.

            Dully, Dash deflected another magrifle round straying too close to the two of them. Once more, Kazok unleashed a barrage of plasma bullets, forcing the Reploid Hunters to partially withdraw so they could weather the storm. Another fool charged in, and was kicked back out into the circle just as easily, with a slash on his face or arm to show for his troubles.

            But Kazok was growing wearier; the timer clicking down in his head made demise nearer every moment, weakening his concentration and skill.

            **_Time to Microfusion Generator overload; fifteen seconds._**

            "Dash…" Kazok wheezed, firing off another supershot and making the Reploid Hunters scatter, "Baby, it's time."

            She stabbed at a nearby Reploid Hunter, gutting him straight through the EM shield that offered no protection from the slow and non-energy based power of her TitaniTefloAlloy claws. Once he had been dispatched and lay fallen and bleeding on the ground, she turned her head around to him slightly.

            "That time, eh?"

            Kazok nodded an affirmative. 

            Dash's eyes quieted out a bit.

            "Well, my flying wonder…I guess we knew it had to happen sometime."

            "Yes." He grunted with a quiet grin. "But at least we fought well." He lifted a hand over and squeezed hers.

            "And at least we had each other." She replied, squeezing back. "And we always will."

            "It's like that saying, then…" Kazok chuckled softly. "Till death do us part." Dash bared her teeth at the circle of Reploid Hunters, as they all drew closer still, smelling victory.

            They smelled wrong.

            "Kazok, Kazok…" Dash chided him one last time. "You're forgetting another saying."

            "What's that??"

            "Death…is only the beginning."

            Another wave of Reploid Hunters, and the monsters they sought to destroy, vanished in white hot atomic fire and noise. 

            Another battle ended.

            And the war drew to a slow, but final close.

            The beam scythe of Jowers was a powerful weapon; deadly against somebody armed with a single beam saber. But against Willow and her menacing beam whip, a melee weapon with far more reach than the beam scythe, he found himself struggling just to avoid being slaughtered. 

            It was an odd sound, if sounds were what one could gauge the battle by. There were the cries and grunts, a common facet to nearly every duel ever performed on Earth since the dawn of time. The snap and hiss of Willow's beam whip snaking along the ground, coiling up only to shoot forth crisscrossed with the occasional slash and parry of Jowers' weapon. 

            Unlike the other battles that were being fought on this last day of the world, Willow and Jowers had a history; a past that was never reconciled and at long last was finding its closure. Perhaps it made this one skirmish the fiercest one of all.

            Jowers was MI9; at one time, Willow had been as well. At one time, Willow and Bristol had escaped MI9 to protect their lives. But all that they had received for their troubles was the doom of the world.

            Even as he twisted and rolled away from the angry snake that was Willow's primary weapon, Jowers grinned at her and laughed.

            "You know, I often think back to that day long ago, Willow."

            "When you launched Ice Beacon??" Willow retorted, dashing in closer and swinging her beam whip in a horizontal arc that threatened to tear him in half. The Enhanced human simply backflipped up, pushing with all his might until he had gained enough height to his jump that the slash missed him cleanly.

            He landed, that same devilish grin on his features.

            "No…although I remember that day well also." He replied, motioning to a wicked scar torn along the side of his face. "That's how I remember your beam whip, my darling Willow. Old memories and wounds…" He shook his head. "But no. The day I laugh about is the day when you and Bristol escaped MI9."

            "And just what's so funny about that day??" Willow snapped, charging towards Jowers with her whip held high. He brought his staff up, nearly running her through; Willow turned her boots to him and fired her dash thrusters, straining his EM shield from the attack. Jowers barked out in surprise and jumped backwards, grimacing from the flashburns his protective shielding hadn't been able to deflect. "Or do you just like to laugh about us?"

            "No, not that." Jowers snickered, regaining his composure. He stood up and held his beam staff in a defensive pose. "I do not find you reploids the least bit humorous. Fate, though…"

            "What's that you're rambling about now?" Willow growled, pulling her beam whip up and gripping it halfway across its length. The chain retracted the plasma about her grip with ease, an obedient weapon to the last.

            "Fate has a sense of irony about it that I've always appreciated." Jowers continued, seeming to stare up at the sky as he rubbed his chin with his free hand. "On that day long ago, you and Bristol escaped us in MI9 seeking to preserve your own lives. You knew it would be a hard road, but at the same moment your self-preservation was of critical essence. Thusly, like we all would be. Human nor reploid is willing to sit idly by and perish on a whim; not unless they're very despondent or very crazy."

            "And your point, ENHANCED??" Willow snarled. "Or do you have a hard time dealing with the fact that in some form, Bristol gave birth to you and your accursed kind?"

            "Oh, we've dealt with it very nicely." Jowers shrugged, a hint of anger showing through. "We've accepted the fact that we are cursed beings. Imperfect humans. We still hold you and your kind in contempt for that daily…but at the same time, we appreciate the power that it grants us. To kill you. But shall I continue?? I'd like to make my point before I destroy you."

            "You've never been able to destroy me before, Jowers." Willow growled. "What makes you think you can do it now??"

            "As I was saying," Jowers continued, pushing her question aside, "Fate holds irony. And the irony of this scenario is a simple one. If you and Bristol had not escaped us that day, you would have perished on our beam staffs. Yes, you would have died…but the reploids, dear Willow…The reploids would LIVE."

            The Irish Banshee blinked for a moment, sharp green eyes slanting in confusion, widening in recognition, then twinkling as recognition gave way to complete comprehension. 

            _No…_

_            Despite herself, Willow's hand began to tremble and her beam whip lowered. Jowers chuckled again and shook his head._

            "My poor, poor Willow…you hadn't realized it until now, had you?" His voice took on an almost caring tone. "If you and Bristol had died on that day long ago instead of stubbornly surviving…then Bristol would have never been alive to be discovered by our wandering field agents in Alaska. Bristol would have never been tortured into revealing the Universal Berserker Frequency…and all of reploidkind would still be existing as they did before Ice Beacon's successful transmission." He walked towards Willow, shaking his head. She collapsed onto her knees, staring at the ground like a beaten dog. "And now you know. Now you get it. All of this nightmarish future holds its roots in Bristol's ideas and machinations, to be sure…but without the UBF, the key would be missing. And your stubbornness gave us that key. We have the both of you to thank for the doom of your kind, my Irish Banshee: Bristol, for providing the Berserker Beacons and the Universal Berserker Frequency, and YOU, Willow, for keeping her alive long enough to tell it to us." He stopped walking, standing over her with his beam scythe in his right hand.

            Numbly, she looked up at him, her green eyes streaked with tears.

            "So it's my fault? All this…"

            "Your fault." Jowers assured her. Gently, he reached a hand down and caressed her shoulder. "And it hurts. I know it does."

            Willow was unable to muffle the sob that choked in her throat. Jowers sighed.

            "There is great pain, Willow…but it can be ended. All of this is nothing more than a dream, a horrible dream that none of us can wake from…There is a way out."

            She shut her eyes tightly to flush away the tears, then opened them again and looked pleadingly into his face.

            "How do you wake from a nightmare that never ends??"

            Jowers smiled gently, kneeling down next to Bristol and lifting her chin up with his free hand. His smile was one of betrayal, or perhaps the only kindness he had left to give her.

            She gasped as his beam scythe's curved blade was gently thrust into her upper abdomen, pushed all the way through until it passed out the other side.

            "Simple, my dear angel…" Jowers whispered, pulling her body tightly to him in a final embrace of death, nuzzling the side of her head and her fiery red hair. "You wake by vanishing from the dream."

            He could not see the placid look fall over her face, the loss of everything but absolute calm and acceptance. But he could hear her gentle breathing, the final gasps of life fading away from her soon to be cold and lifeless body.

            He never saw her hand clench tightly around her beam whip and lash it forth, wrapping the elongated chain around the both of them.

            But he felt the green power chain draw around him in a tighter embrace of death, slice through the EM protective shield and embed its burning length into his back, severing his spinal column. Willow remained unscathed, even in her last moments protected from her own weapon.

            Her breath quickened, and she bent her mouth next to his ear. A now dying Jowers couldn't move, he could only hear…

            "Then wake up with me."

            They collapsed to the ground, both fast fading. And as the noises of the world faded away and their senses failed them, the last thing that they saw was each other's eyes.

            Burning into eternity, waiting for release from a dream that went wrong.

            For all his strength, and all his skill, X had been no match. The mass of Reploid Hunters he had attacked were too numerous and too skilled themselves.

            With high phase energy disruptors and electromagnetic pulse cannons, they had taken him down, leaving him to shiver and tremble on the ground as the rampaging energies ran through him. 

            They had left him there until the last of the warriors had been exterminated. Left him like a piece of garbage…

            The next thing X could consciously recall, they had picked him up and lifted him up onto a section of wire fencing…

            And staked his hands to the thin barrier with railroad spikes. They did the same to his feet, leaving them dangling and spread apart. And he bled. Oh, how X bled…

            But he was not to die so quickly…

            _They wanted to keep me alive…_

_            Numbly, he stared down with his pain glazed eyes onto them. The ten surviving Reploid Hunters. The last of the great warrior reploids had fought bravely to protect their kind…_

            _In the end, empty sacrifices. They fought a battle nobody will remember, a war with no heroes…Nobody will quote their deeds years from now. Nobody…_

_            The Reploid Hunters walked over to him. Spat on him. Punched him. Pushed the spikes in harder, forcing X to scream to make them stop. _

            "Mega Man X, we now hand sentence on you and your race." The leader of the survivors proclaimed. Numbly, X stared down at them all.

            Humans. Eyes burning with anger and hatred. Fires of bigotry and racism unquenched for decades now released in full force.

            _My God…They've crucified me…_

_            And they had. They had hung him up to die, to witness the end. The end of his kind, Dr. Light's last gift of hope to the tortured world._

            "For too long have the members of your species run amok, ruined our world, hurt humanity time and time again." The leader continued sternly. "It ends here. The Reploid Wars end here. The Reploid Race ends here."

            He turned about, his gaze leading X's own. And then X saw them…

            _No…not them…not them…_

_            "Don't do this…" X croaked, shaking his head. "They did not fight. They did not cause pain. They were innocent victims…the same as any of you!!"_

            "Hollow words from a false savior." The human snapped back. "The warrior reploids are all dead. These are the only ones left on the entire planet." He turned back to X and let his eyes smoulder.

            "Now they die."

            X could only stare on in horror and dismay…and sadness.

            The civilian reploids had been ousted from their safety nest underneath the earth, every last one of them had been lined up against another fence. In front of them were the last of the Reploid Hunters, all with Magrifles.

            There was fear in the reploid's eyes then. Yet at the same moment…acceptance and pity. X could see it. 

            _They pity those that would destroy them…_

_            "FIRE!!!"_

            Down they all went…the last of their kind, the final litter of their species…

            _Dead. Every last one dead…_

_            And then X was truly alone. _

            His head hung low, his chin nestled against his chest. 

            "It is done." The new leader of the Reploid Hunters proclaimed. "The reploids are all dead."

            "And what about me?" X asked quietly. He lifted his face up, streaked with tears of purple…his blood…And cried. "Am I to die then as well? To fall on this last day of the Earth?"

            "You are to be a symbol, Mega Man X." The Reploid Hunter proclaimed loudly. "A warning to all of humanity of what we had to fight long and hard to destroy…to prevent from destroying us."

            "So I am to die…" X mused. He looked down on the Reploid Hunter and shook his head. "I pity you."

            "You?? Pity me??" The Reploid Hunter retorted, looking surprised. "Why?"

            "Because…" X whispered, "You never understood…None of you ever did."

            The gray, overcast skies above did not clear up then. In fact, they only darkened in color. And before all those who remained alive on that tragic battleground, snow began to fall. A snow of sadness and mourning…

            Frightened, the Reploid Hunter turned to Mega Man X and shook his head.

            "You…You're…no, you can't be doing this…"

            X looked up at him, his seagreen eyes streaked with the blood he shed in memory of his people. But he was not looking at the Reploid Hunter…the human shivered as he realized that the first, and the last member of the reploid race was staring through him, beyond him…

            And then X lifted his face up, feeling his helmet lose its hold on his head. Slowly, the proud symbol of justice and a hope for peace fell away from the Blue Bomber of 21XX, falling backwards over the fence and clattering to the ground on the other side. His snow white hair and all of his face was at last exposed to the skies and heavens above…hair that had once been as black as night, but was now as clear and sad as the snowfall above.

            It coated him. It coated his helmet. Slowly, the blue of his armor and the purple of his blood gave out, was washed away by the cold soothing white of the falling snow, frozen tears from heaven…

            _Father…_

_            It felt right to say. As the last of his power faded away, as X felt the icy fingers of death close in around him, he realized it was the only thing to say._

            "Father…Why have you forsaken me??" 

            He did not scream it. He did not wail it. He did not thrash or struggle. 

            X greeted death with sadness, with pain. With quiet, unsteady acceptance. His body fell limp, his eyes went dull, and his head lowered itself in a final prayer.

            And then the snow continued to fall…on X, and on all who had died that day.

            Suddenly, the anger and rage and bitterness of all who had survived that fateful battle melted just as quickly as the snow froze to the ground. 

            The Reploid Hunters…the humans who had murdered the last of the reploids, stumbled around each other and found themselves inexorably staring at the saddened, placid face of Mega Man X. Slowly, steadily, he was covered in snow. As if heaven and earth sought to protect him, enshrine him from their hands.

            The leader of the Reploid Hunters turned about, unable to look at the sight any longer. One of his men noticed it right away.

            "Sir, why did you turn around??"

            "Because, his last question won't leave my mind." The commander replied shakily.

            "What did he say??" the other asked.

            The commander looked up to the sky, then back over to X, who slowly vanished underneath the tears of snow.

            And he couldn't say it.

            It would not stop snowing over New Tokyo for three months.

            "And that would be it then." The Bristol wraith concluded, pulling away from Bristol and staring at the female reploid with that sick grin. "Pretty fantastic, huh? I was personally hoping that X was going to receive a harsher punishment than simple crucifixion…but leave it to humans to be creatures of habit with their supposed despots, eh??"

            Bristol turned to her doppelganger, but said nothing. The wrath pouted.

            "Oh, come now. Surely the destroyer of the world has SOMETHING to say about the future. Any last comments? Any 'if onlys' to satisfy whimsy's sake?? Or are you just so caught up in your misery that you don't want to put up with it anymore?" The wraith turned to Bristol and lifted her chin up. 

            There was calm that shone in those sunken eyes then, Bristol found. A frightening calm.

            "There is a way out, you understand." She continued, running a gentle hand through Bristol's hair. "The same choice Jowers gave Willow. Death."

            Bristol looked into those eyes. So much of her wanted to give in…so much of her wished for it all to end and fade away.

            _"Aaw, gee…and did __Bristol__'s tormentor forget door number two??"_

_            Both Bristol and the wraith turned their heads up and found themselves staring at a sudden building brightness out of nowhere._

            A brightness that made the wraith scream and jump away from Bristol, covering its sunken eyes with its tattered cloak.

            The ball of incandescence descended and dimmed…to form a person. A reploid, Bristol realized with widening eyes. The dilation of her pupils may also have had something to do with that.

            He stood at medium height, not much muscular build…the only indication of his species the large boots he wore. His clothes were white and simple…an open shirt and loose shorts. And his face…confident and self-assured, full of purpose and something more.

            "Leave here now!!" The wraith snarled, charging towards the intruder. 

            The reploid seemed to narrow his eyes at the doppelganger, then shook his head and grinned again.

            "Oh, please…" He tucked one hand into his shorts, but kept the other out as the wraith descended on him with suddenly sharp claws. 

            With one flick of his arm, the wraith went flying and collapsed four meters distant, bleeding from that simple gesture. The reploid turned around with that same placidness in his movements, and lifted his hand up. The wraith's eyes widened. "Why would I ever be afraid…"

            He swung his hand down, carrying along with it a quiet and gentle gust of healing wind that hit the floor and slammed into the doppelganger, melting it into darkness and casting it away like sand in one smooth gesture.

            "Of mere shadows?" 

            The reploid clicked his tongue again and walked over to Bristol, setting an arm on her shoulder.

            "Bristol…are you all right?" 

            As his hand sat there, the tired reploid suddenly felt a surge of newfound strength, will, and resolve ebb into her. With eyes that now shone with her full intelligence, she looked on him in wonder.

            "Who…"

            "Am I?" He asked jovially. The reploid in the simple, agrarian clothes shook his head. "I'm surprised Wycost hasn't told you about me…no wait, he never did…" The reploid shook his head. "Sorry, sometimes being able to see everything can be a little burdening on such a fresh mind. Forgive me, milady. You can call me Isaiah."

            Her bonds vanished with a simple snap of his fingers; Bristol settled onto her feet as she met solid ground once more. And still she stared at him.

            "Questions, yes." He continued, almost musingly. He looked to her and grinned. "I know, everybody's got questions. Well, let me answer your first one. You're NOT DEAD. Of course, I am, but that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish. And as far as your tormentor goes, that wasn't real. Things that aren't real can't hurt you."

            "So what was it then??" Bristol asked back. Isaiah shrugged.

            "The power of the mind is very intense…that little wraith tormenting you was a manifestation of your guilt and terror intermixed. Not a nice combination, but seeing as it was only a manifestation…well, ideas have a tendency of dying, don't they??"

            Bristol sat down and leaned against the stone wall. She put a hand to her head.

            "But then, everything I saw…"

            "You ever watch one of those stupid, carbon copy 'Christmas Carol' movies??" Isaiah asked, interrupting her. His eyes held a little bit of mirth, but also annoyance, not at her, but the topic. "Better yet, read the book if you can find it. The book is always better than the movie. Essentially, that little piece of your psyche that was torturing you can be equated to the ghost of Christmas yet to come. And like Scrooge, you ask yourself, was that a vision of what will be…or a vision of only what MIGHT be??"

            Isaiah sat down cross-legged in front of Bristol and cocked his head to the side.

            "Bristol, that was a vision of what might be. It can be prevented. It can be changed."

            "How?" She asked, looking at him. Isaiah hit his forehead.

            "Aah, for the love of Jee…" He sighed and shook his head. "Look. You just asked the dumb question of the day. How can it be prevented? SIMPLE. Stop Ice Beacon from transmitting the Universal Berserker Frequency."

            Bristol rolled her eyes.

            "Is that all? You might as well ask me to move mountains."

            "Hey, I've met people that have done that." Isaiah retorted, lifting a finger. "Don't insult them." He stood back up. "The next question you're going to ask is 'why am I here?? Why am I telling you all of this'??" Isaiah shrugged. "Easy. The first step can only be taken by you. As we speak, your body lies asleep in the MHHQ's Medical Bay, being watched over by your faithful love Bastion and a host of others. Tonight, they are all going to warp to Antarctica on their most important mission ever; To stop Ice Beacon from launching. And they'll either succeed…or fail." He pointed at her. "You, Bristol. YOU. Yes, you are the one who created Berserker Beacons. Yes, you are the one who was forced into giving them the UBF. But you are not the cause. All you gave them was tools. MI9 would have done it themselves eventually, or they would have found some other method. You are only a tool they used. They are the cause. And you and the others are just what the good doctor ordered to shut them down."

            He held a hand out and helped her to her feet. Isaiah clucked his tongue.

            "Look, I'm trying to make this as short a visit as possible. I'm already pulling overtime, and I'm getting kinda hungry." Isaiah twisted his head up and shouted at the newly appeared sky above. "Do ya hear me??! I want OVERTIME PAY FOR THIS!!!"

            He got no response, so the reploid sighed again. "Maybe some tea when I'm done here…But in any case, have any more questions before I push off for lands beyond your sight?"

            Bristol thought long and hard, then nodded.

            "Can Ice Beacon be stopped??"

            "Yes." Isaiah said simply. "If there are enough good people on this planet willing to put themselves on the line to stop it…like YOU…Then yes. You can stop it. That's why I had to show up and stop your guilt and grief from killing you. The first step in that nightmarish future was you kicking the bucket for the hell of it. Step one, completed. The rest is up to you. Next?"

            "Will it be done with after this?" Bristol asked, staring at Isaiah. "If we stop Ice Beacon, will MI9's madness be done with?"

            Isaiah shrugged…an iffy answer, if that. He lifted his index finger. "One last question, beautiful. Make it a good one."

            "Is there a heaven?" Bristol asked, after much hesitation. Isaiah smiled.

            "I don't know…what do you consider to be heaven? A place you feel safe? A place you feel warm? Where all your family and friends are gathered and sing merry songs in an angel's chorus? Where you wake up every morning and there's the lovely scent of grandma's cookies fresh from the oven?" Isaiah shrugged. "Heaven's what you make of it, Bristol. Some people I know still think heaven is found in a cornfield in Iowa." He tapped her nose with his finger, then clapped his hands together. "And there you have it. My work is done here, and I'm off to enjoy a long deserved rest. Just do one thing for me, will you?"

            "What?" Bristol asked, tilting her head to the side. Isaiah grinned. "Tell Wycost I said hello…and to expect a visit from me very soon."

            She almost said something else…but before she could, Isaiah had one hand tucked into his pocket and was whistling a four tone, five note melody that seemed to carry on for eternity. With his other hand, he pointed to the sky above and let his twinkling eyes lift up.

            Unconsciously, Bristol followed his gaze into the blue cloudless sky above…to the bright sun that grew brighter and brighter, blocking out everything as it filled her vision…

            She woke up with the barest of twitches. A slight exhalation of breath, the movement of an arm…

            And a familiar voice to guide her to heaven, and the mouth that went with it.

            "Thank heaven you're alive…" Moments before a warm, comforting mouth met hers.

            Even with her eyes shut, Bristol knew him. By his touch, by his gentle warmth. That tenderness only he had.

            She kissed him back, reaching her arms up to pull him closer. He responded under her hands like water, shifting to accommodate. 

            "I missed you…" He croaked when they finally came up for air. Bristol opened her eyes up and looked at him.

            His hair was bedraggled, his chin was growing synth-beard stubble, and his armor hadn't seen a polish in a long time…

            He never looked so beautiful.

            "I'll never leave you again." She replied. And the tears of happiness in her eyes spoke the truth.

            They held each other tightly in another fiery kiss that wouldn't end…

            And then Hazil walked in and cleared his throat as loudly as he could.

            "When you two kids are done, I'd like to get organized." Bristol squeaked in surprise, jerking away from Bastion and blinking at Hazil. The Medical reploid chortled and shook his head. "God, I gotta remember this. You wake up from coming back from the brink of death, and what's the first thing that you do? Suck tongues with Bastion. Willow probably wouldn't approve."

            "Willow?! She's here?!" Bristol snapped, jumping to her feet and leaving a still enamored Bastion to collapse facefirst onto the medical cot Bristol had been occupying.

            When the Desert Angel came to and picked himself up, he nodded his head.

            "Yes. If it wasn't for her, we would have never been able to rescue you from MI9 HQ." Bastion replied. "As it was…we were nearly too late."

            "The fates haven't gotten rid of our ilk yet." Came the female voice with the Irish lilt. Willow calmly strolled into the Medical Bay, body hidden underneath a seagreen cloak of sorts that covered her entire body…save her head and her boots, which kicked themselves out defiantly underneath the hem.

            Bristol blinked in disbelief, then rushed over and gave her longtime friend a big hug.

            Willow was taken aback for a moment, her green eyes flaring in dismay. Eventually she patted Bristol's head. "Remember everything now, don't ye, lass?" 

            "Everything." Bristol replied quietly. She pulled back from Willow and shook her head. "Funny…the truth I sought for ever since I arrived at the MHHQ was the same reality you and I had tried so desperately to escape."

            "MI9's shadow falls a long distance, lass." Willow replied, her face hardening again. "And you know of Ice Beacon, correct?? I presume that fool Fannir was still as much of a rambler as he always was."

            "They did it to him." Bristol nodded sadly. She looked to Willow. "They drove him insane, tortured him, broke him…reprogrammed him to do their bidding, to hold to their twisted ideals…"

            "I thought as much." Willow murmured. "But make no mistake. Ice Beacon launches tonight. And all of us are going to attack it and make sure it doesn't."

            "Who is all of us?" Bristol asked, lifting an eyebrow. Hazil cleared his throat again.

            "What, would you like me to rattle down the list for you? Willow, Wycost, Bastion, and you…J.K. Horn, Allegro, Doan, and…"

            A sudden bolt of warplight blinked into the next room, and Hazil grinned.

            "Well, speak of the devil. Here's the last member of our merry troupe." 

            Confused, the others followed him out.

            Willow and Bristol were especially stunned to be staring at, of all things, a Robot Master…modified, yes, he was a different color than in what recordings remained of the Fourth Robot Rebellion…but it was definitely him. 

            "Pharaoh Man, glad you could make it." Hazil said easily, patting the Cossack model Robot Master on the shoulder. Phare shrugged his shoulders and turned about.

            "I feel a little unease currently, Hazil. You are the only familiar face in the room." Slowly, he turned about and examined them all. They blinked back at him.

            "Hazil, have ye gone DAFT??" Willow barked, extending a hand out from underneath her cloak and pointing at him. "The lad's a ROBOT. As soon as he lifts a hand to help us, the First Law'll shut him straight down!"

            "It would…If the Laws no longer held any sway over me." Pharaoh Man replied calmly. "Odd how surviving Mind Freeze will do that."

            Everyone just stared blankly at him, trying to absorb the concept of a Robot Master that was no longer guided by the Rules of Robotics. Hazil cleared his throat again.

            "Well, let me do the rough introductions. The fiery redhead with the poncho syndrome goes by the name of Willow. Blond and beautiful by her side is called Bristol. And Bastion is that dashing guy with the fuzzy brown hair from here to Alabama."

            "How many are to go on this mission?" Pharaoh Man asked. Hazil shrugged his shoulders.

            "These guys, you, and three more. Seven. Plus, if you include us all back here who are going to be supporting you from afar, maybe eight. So eight total."

            "Eight??" Pharaoh Man queried back disbelievingly. Hazil blinked a few times.

            "Yeah, eight. So?" Pharaoh Man smiled a bit, a gesture that unnerved everyone but Hazil, and an amazed and excited Bristol.

            "Well…allow the oldest person in the room to remind you all that Robot Rebellions were fought with eight Robot Masters…"

            Hazil shook his head.

            "Yeah, whatever. We'll talk about the irony of it all and the horoscopes after I get everyone together. Phare, go with these guys. Guys, I'll see you in the silent conference room with the rest of our merry troupe."

            X and Zero and Signas had completed their phone call successfully; they had told where the Mavericks would meet them and when. Which left only the general alarm to be sounded…

            _"Emergency, emergency, all Maverick Hunters rated at 'A' rank or above, report to the front courtyard immediately…"_

_            The Hunters looked an eclectic sight standing there outside of the MHHQ, weapons lowered but ready for battle. X and Zero stared at them all; the best and bravest of the Hunters, no grunts to look out for. The most capable of all the Hunters stood here, numbering thirty eight, including X and Zero._

            Signas frowned for a moment, then turned to X. 

            "I do not see Commander Bastion or Doan of your Unit." X shrugged.

            "They said they had some other stuff they needed to deal with. Even got a doctor's excuse from Hazil."

            "That is highly irre…" Signas began, but Zero fixated him with a stern gaze and the Maverick Hunter General sighed. "Fine. I'll let it slide for now. But I will have questions for them later."

            "Right." Zero muttered. "Let's just get done what we need to get done, awwright?"

            "What he said." X replied easily. He turned out to the masses that shuffled about impatiently and whistled loudly. "Listen up, Hunters!!"

            The pack stopped their shuffling and waited. Close to the front, Gavin, Jad and Kol watched X with expectant eyes.

            Signas stepped forward and cleared his throat. Everyone waited.

            On that hallowed ground in the front of the MHHQ, only walking distance away from the grave of Dr. James T. Cain, with a cloudy sky above, Signas looked at them all, and they all looked back.

            "Maverick Hunters, you all know who I am. Doubtless you've had your misgivings about me…I understand that. Here and now, I offer apologies to all of you for my actions. I did the same for X and Zero. But now we must move on." Signas nodded his head for a moment. 

            "Currently, the six Maverick Generals under Sigma…and Sigma himself…are waiting to set course for Hokkaido Island. You see, Mega Man X and Zero have issued a challenge to Sigma. One great showdown. And all of you are invited."

            That brought some cheers of approval. Signas continued, not waiting for the noise to stop.

            "But this will be a very different kind of battle…You see, Maverick Hunters, this will be an ambush." Signas nodded his head as all the cheering Hunters stopped and looked at him blankly. "Sigma expects us to fight like we usually do. All guns blazing until the bitter end. But not today."

            And as he told them his plan, and what needed to be done, the elite Maverick Hunters looked at each other with faces that gleamed of recognition and trust.

            _This was going to work._

            At last, everyone had been assembled inside the dead conference room of the MHHQ. The team that would save the world.

            Willow remained as mirthless as ever, her weapons and life energy at full, her armor hidden by the sleek cloak that draped over her like a shroud. Wycost had even sniffed out a Sub-Tank for her.

            Bastion ran a quick self-diagnostic, but didn't pop his wings out. He didn't need to, and there wasn't enough room. He hugged Bristol one last time, then turned to Hazil and J.K. Horn at the front of the room.

            Bristol ignited her pink beam saber for a moment, a replacement for the one she had lost, then satisfied that it worked, shut it off.

            Wycost just leaned against the wall, arms folded against his chevron emblazoned chest armor.

            Allegro checked his black beam staff, smirking for a moment as he twirled the cylinder. "The irony here is that the weapon of the snake is going to strike its head." He said sardonically.

            Doan propped his own wings up for a moment, looking at Cleo one last time and nodding his head to let her know they worked like a charm. He remained characteristically silent, though. Cleo offered one wary glance at Willow, who chose not to notice the stare.

            And Pharaoh Man, the oddest recruit of the bunch, a Robot Master beyond his time, but a warrior being born into his full prime, merely let his eyes wander around the room, and hoped that the three Energy Tanks he had brought along would be enough…

            Finally, the lights dimmed and Horn cleared his throat.

            "People, let me just offer a brief overview of the situation once more." He stepped out and looked at them all, hands tucked behind his back. "As of today, MI9 agents at Ice Beacon had obtained the Universal Berserker Frequency. By tonight, Ice Beacon will have been fired. We are the only ones on Earth who know of this plan and are capable enough to stop it." 

            Willow stepped forth, continuing the dialogue for all present.

            "We'll be meeting with heavy resistance, lads. The Enhanceds that weren't at MI9 HQ in England when it blew have no doubt relocated themselves onto that blasted transmitter. They're as capable as reploids; show no mercy, hold nothing back. And push your doubts aside. We are not harming innocents, we are destroying would-be murderers."

            Bristol stepped up next to Willow.

            "We all must do what we can. Willow and I will try to infiltrate their nerve center and disable the transmission of the UBF from inside. The rest of you all…The rest of you I ask to go outside. Attack Ice Beacon's heart, the massive dish they have been carving into the ice. If we fail to disable the signal at its source, then it will be up to you to stop it from launching by the transmitter. MI9 will stop at nothing to prevent us from carrying through with this goal; but we cannot lose." She stepped up, her blue eyes became harder. "We CANNOT. If we fail here today, then our world as we know it will be destroyed, and MI9 will have won. Reploids will slowly be exterminated by humans, both MI9 and those without a clue as to the true cause of the madness. We can do this; I know we can." Bristol smiled and turned to Wycost. "Isaiah says hello, Wycost."

            The Bronx Bomber grunted in surprise and lifted his glasses, blinking furiously at her for a few moments. Bristol shook her head and continued.

            "I know the odds seem slim…but if we all try, if we fight with everything we have, then we will succeed. This was told to me. And this I know." She stared at her hand. "They considered Willow and me nothing but tools to create their machinations…well, now we are the tools that will be used to destroy them."

            "For the world, then." Horn echoed. He looked around the room and nodded, a small smile curling onto his lips. "For the world."

            _For the dangers past and present,_

_            For a Trial preserved by time,_

_            Hunters become the Hunted, in all of fate's ignoble rhyme…_

_            The danger looms nearer now, _

_            Nearer than it has before,_

_            We hear the darkness coming, answers lie beyond the door…_

_            And we can only face them, by chance or by design…_

_            Now the question will be answered…_

_            **How will reploids fade from time??**_

****


	21. Tears For The Damned

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

CHAPTER NINETEEN: TEARS FOR THE DAMNED

            Kowalski was still amazed at the grandeur of this invention in progress, its simplicity in design that at the same time was so complex in execution.

            Ice Beacon. MI9's most dramatic effort to place humanity back on the pedestal of superiority and do away with the accursed robots and reploids. Stagnation had left MI9 to seethe underneath the view of the world, spreading its limbs out and slowly but surely placing control throughout the world. In every major financial and governmental organization, MI9 had at least one card carrying member doing their duty silently and calmly.

            He tucked his hands into his parka and exhaled, ignoring how his breath condensed into fog in the bitter cold Antarctic air.

            Ironically, it was a reploid that had given MI9 all the tools they would ever need to exterminate the accursed reploids and robots of the world. Bristol, an intelligent but naïve spirit had created the next wave of warp technology, making it safe for human use. Bristol had created bio-implants that could enhance the natural abilities of humans who were suitable for the procedure.

            And most importantly, Bristol had created the Berserker Beacons, a device capable of making any reploid go completely Irregular, given enough time. And now that the UBF was known, Ice Beacon could reach its full functionality.

            Kowalski, like the rest of MI9 at the time that the heads had ordered construction of it, had no way of knowing that the Berserker Beacons had limitations. It was only through the operations of their field agents, the Enhanceds sent out to covertly eliminate reploids and at the same time, test out MI9's new technologies, that they discovered the Berserker Beacon could not affect more than one reploid at a time. Every reploid had a unique brain pattern, a unique wave of thought that the Beacons had to latch onto in order to warp. Obviously, using Ice Beacon in such a limited manner wouldn't help them. They needed the ability to send out the signal from Ice Beacon and affect every reploid at once.

            And then somebody in the science labs uncovered something in Bristol's original design notes; a question mark after _Universal Berserker Frequency_ scribbled in the corner of the device's blueprints.

            MI9 had thought that Bristol, like Willow, was dead. So reluctantly but with purpose, the MI9 scientists at Ice Beacon had set to work on the task of creating the UBF while the engineers finished constructing the dish.

            And then like a miracle, Bristol appeared in the Alaskan wilderness, and was retrieved by a team of MI9 Enhanceds on the prowl. She was dragged back to the MI9 HQ and tortured into revealing the actual UBF…

            "And then they destroyed HQ." Kowalski murmured bitterly. He turned about into the chill wind and took the icy blast full on.

            _Bristol__ had gained friends during her absence…those godforsaken reploid warriors who blasted into MI9 HQ led by __Willow__ and rescued __Bristol__…then caused the HQ to self destruct._

Some of the Enhanceds on base had warped out in time. But most of the people who lived and worked in their primary underground structure…were gone.

            Another nameless messenger, a grunt in the ranks of MI9 came up to Kowalski with a datapadd.

            "The teams report that Ice Beacon will be fully functional by tonight, on schedule."

            "And our defenses??" Kowalski murmured. "Those reploid maniacs escaped MI9 HQ before it blew…and both Willow and Bristol were alive and well when they left." Kowalski turned and faced the messenger, his eyes burning. "By now, they'll know about this. And they could show up at any time."

            "Well, we have twenty Enhanced humans on base…"

            "How many were lost at HQ?!" Kowalski snapped. "Damnit, TELL ME."

            The trooper wobbled back and forth, biting his tongue and hesitating to give the figure. But finally, he caved into Kowalski's booming presence.

            "We lost…Fifty, sir."

            If Kowalski was a weaker man, he would have collapsed onto his knees. The number was staggering.

            _Fifty…God, that's half…Half of our teams, and we've lost others even before this…_

            "And the survivors??"

            "Too spread out and beyond our reach." The trooper replied glumly. "They won't be able to help us."

            "Yeah." Kowalski said mutedly, running a hand through his hair. "The bigwigs probably have them running around crazy in the world getting set up, hunkering them in deep until this blows over…"

            "Orders, sir?" The messenger asked plaintively. Kowalski turned back to the wind, then stared down at Ice Beacon's mass, a satellite dish being carved out of the glacial ice.

            _Just what am I supposed to order?? To stand ready, to fight until the bitter end??_

"Sir?"

            _Ice Beacon must succeed. It MUST. Otherwise, everything we exist for, everything we dream for…has been in vain…_

"SIR!"

            "Order the Enhanceds to stand ready for attack until Ice Beacon is launched. Tell the Engineers and Techs to speed up the signal launch as much as they can. And get that EM shield generator running." Kowalski finally snapped, pulling the hood of his winter parka tighter up around his face. "When Bristol and Willow and their treacherous friends come…and they will…we'll by God be ready for them. Nothing will stop Ice Beacon from launching. Nothing."

            The messenger snapped to attention and gave a rigid salute. Kowalski returned it slowly, then watched as the messenger returned to the control room of Ice Beacon with the critical orders.

            Kowalski tucked his hands into the coat pockets of his parka and sighed. Even through the thick fabric, he could feel his beam weapon's storage cylinder pressing up against his fingers, itching to be drawn and used to draw the blood of reploids.

            And this time, Kowalski knew its bloodlust would be sated.

            "Soon…"

            The Mavericks completed their final checklist. Making sure that their weapons worked, that their internal operations energy was at max…

            It was all in the green. Whatever would come, they would face it ready and willing. Cumulus Bull, Shell Butane, Dolph Reach, Burst Scarab, Kazok Gravor and Dash Blade were all waiting on the Greenland ice above; waiting for Sigma and Iris to come out of the hole as well.

            Dash checked her Landchaser cycle again. The engine was ready, the seat warm. She chanced a furtive glance up to Kazok, who looked back at her for a moment before nodding his head.

            Dolph noticed the interchange and chittered in what could only be identified as a laugh.

            "Well, I'll be. You two really are hopeless."

            "Pardon?" Dash stammered, looking up to the Dolphin looking Maverick. Dolph smiled, a genuine smile that held no malice. He looked to the others, who suddenly grew smiles of their own.

            "Oh, we had a wager going since we first saw you two training by yourselves that there was something more between you than simple camaraderie." Burst snickered, picking up where Dolph had left off.

            Both Kazok and Dash blushed, which didn't help to disprove it. Shell laughed, tilting his head back in a powerful bellow.

            "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, you two. Hell, you two were positively meant for each other."

            "You're not angry?" Kazok asked, looking around the members of his team. Cumulus snorted.

            "Angry about what? The fact you've fallen in love with the most desirable Female Feraloid ever constructed? Doubtful." The Tarusoid class reploid said with a knowing smile. "I guess even us Mavericks can find love, eh?"

            "Never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself." Dolph said easily. He lifted a hand up and pointed at them. "But this is going to be the big fight, I can feel it. So when you're out there, fight with everything you've got. Otherwise, this wonderful thing of yours is going to turn ugly real fast."

            "How would that work?" Dash growled slowly. Shell Butane spoke up.

            "Well, I remember hearing a saying once. True Love; you get all the good things in life…until she dies." He looked between the two lovers. "So be careful out there today. Not just for yourselves…for us."

            "Why for you?" Kazok asked, puzzled. Burst waggled an eyebrow and shrugged.

            "Isn't it obvious? You two have given us proof that there's something more substantial to life than endless fighting. That there's something worth working for." He smiled a bit. "And I'll be the first to admit it, I'm a hopeless romantic."

            Kazok backed off for a moment and looked to them all. Not just to Dash, the feraloid whom he had pledged his heart to. To all of them. To the team he had pledged his life to.

            "I do love Dash. But I care for all of you." He gave them a stern glance. "I'll be damned if I'll let any of you die out there. Any of you."

            "That's why we follow you, boss." Shell replied easily. "You don't let us down."

            Inside the URFAWP built Maverick base, Iris slowly reassembled her magrifle. She'd cleaned it out thoroughly and checked her clips to make sure they weren't jammed. But as she went through the motions of getting her weaponry ready, something was obviously weighing heavily on her mind.

            Sigma came up behind her and set a hand on her shoulder, easily dwarfing it.

            "You seem preoccupied." He asserted slowly. Iris nodded, slipping the final component of the magrifle into place with a resounding click and setting the weapon aside.  Her long brown hair managed to hide her worried face from him.

            "I just find myself…thinking." Iris replied. She reached for her pink beam saber and ignited it, then extinguished the blade and put it into the lanyard at her waist. "About that one Maverick Hunter."

            "Zero." Sigma echoed. He sighed. "Does he still haunt you?"

            "It just seems that every time I've faced him, he isn't the malignant personality that killed me." Iris finished. She reached for her two yellow beam daggers and brought them to life as she had her saber. Content that they would work when she needed them to, she slipped them into two smaller lanyards farther back along her waist.

            "Why would you think that?" Sigma asked quietly…perhaps too calmly to be honestly concerned. But Iris didn't pick up on it.

            "His eyes." Iris replied. She pulled her magrifle up and set it on the ground, then turned around and stared up into Sigma's face. "It was his eyes."

            "What about them?"

            "They weren't right." She said uneasily, shaking her head. "That first time we met, in the abandoned missile base on Cornus?? As soon as he saw my face, every last bit of his vengeance and fury evaporated like dry ice. And again…just today in that call we placed to the MHHQ? He was standing there, and he was looking at me with those same eyes."

            "You're a painful reminder to him." Sigma said easily, kneeling on one knee. "A reminder of the killer that he is. But know that he has no pity. No feeling aside from the guilt. You saw how quickly that hurt expression on his face turned to vengeance. How quickly he was to proclaim his true intentions. To destroy me, to destroy us."

            A part of Iris still found herself doubting Sigma's words. That part of her couldn't shake off that innocent sad glint that had appeared on Zero's face.

            But the rest of her did. If only for Sigma, whom she trusted.

            "Then he won't accomplish what he sets out to." Iris finally said, pulling her magrifle up. "Just promise me something, Sigma."

            "What?"

            "Promise me…we'll be together when this is done." Sigma smiled, that same crafty sneer he had worn hundreds of times before.

            "I promise."

            The forces of the Maverick Hunters looked imposing indeed as they marched outside of the main building and clustered around the grave of James T. Cain. Grim determination burned in their eyes, a spirit not seen since Cain died. Like the Phoenix of legend, the Maverick Hunters had risen from the ashes and become something more.

            Signas stood back, stunned and in awe of the awesome sight of the best of the Maverick Hunters standing ready in full battle regalia. Their armor donned, their helmets in place, their Busters primed and ready and beam weapons held in hand. Some of the more unorthodox Hunters even carried magweaponry. And in front of them all, standing on either side of Cain's hallowed grave were Mega Man X and Zero Omega, undoubtedly the strongest of all the Maverick Hunters.

            The masses fell silent, all looking to X and Zero. And in some small way, to Cain, who once more stood with them. Watching. Zero turned and looked at X, then offered a small nod of his head. The Blue Bomber acknowledged Zero's action with a slight nod of his head and cleared his throat. And then he spoke, with such power and charisma that not a single Hunter raised their voice against him.

            "Hunters, we've fought in battles before. We've faced Uprisings. But this is something entirely different. Never before have we had to take on a group of Mavericks so attuned to one another, to their abilities and strengths. Never before have we faced a conflict without the guiding wisdom of James Cain, the creator of the reploid race and the founder of the Maverick Hunters." X nodded his head again. "But this fight isn't over yet. Sigma hasn't won."

            The Maverick Hunters there all glared and nodded. The determination outside was overwhelming, and any casual observer would say as much.

            "This plan can work. But we need to trust in ourselves, trust in the Maverick Hunters. Since 2118, this organization has stood as the last stronghold against the world's anarchy." X smirked a bit at that. "And it will again."

            Zero stepped up, his green eyes cold. "You all know the plan, correct?" Every Hunter standing there in the pavilion nodded once. "Then we go." Zero said calmly. "Let's show Sigma and his newest band of murderers just why hundreds before us have died."

            The uproar was immense. The Maverick Hunters were alive once more, were focused once more. Signas stepped up beside X and tapped him on the shoulder. Over the roar of the crowds, X craned his neck so he could hear the General of the Hunters more clearly.

            "They generate such power…is this what they attain through emotion?"

            "Emotion, friendship, purpose, fervor." X replied in affirmative. "Signas, do you want to know what makes a Maverick Hunter a Maverick Hunter instead of just another soldier?" Signas waited for an answer.

            X merely pointed out into the throng of saviors staring back at them and nodded his head once.

            "That."

            Hazil and the others could hear the mighty roar outside of the MHHQ. Only Horn, the reploid seemingly without anything of immediate importance to do, perked his head towards the comm speaker blasting the sound into the room and smiled.

            "Well, it looks like they're having fun." Cleo, biding her time giving Doan a final checkover, smiled at the comment.

            "Remind me about that AFTER we've made damn sure they'll be able to celebrate their predetermined victory." Hazil replied shortly, running a final sweep of his medical scanner over Bristol's body. She flexed her hands and wrists, taking a moment to examine her repaired armor, spotless thanks to Hazil's ministrations. "Well Bristol, this is the second chance I've had to patch you back into working order." Hazil murmured. "For the love of Beef Pot Pies, don't give me a third opportunity. I've got enough gray hair as it is."

            "You're so funny sometimes, you know that?" Bristol replied, smiling gently at him. "You know just as well as I do that the only reason your hair is gray is that you changed your follicle program."

            "It's the inside that matters most, my British angel." Hazil shot back. He patted her lightly on her blond haired head with pink highlights and stepped back. "You're in full working order. Plus, I've got you running on two Heart Tanks and one Sub. Use 'em wisely, dear."

            "Against MI9 Enhanced agents, those won't last long." Willow called out bitterly from her corner, adjusting her blue cloak one last time before throwing her fiery red mane of hair back. "Then again, the odds aren't that much better for them either. One easy hit and their EM shields are pierced."

            "Yeah. If they don't slice us to ribbons first." Wycost picked up, letting his Buster morph back into his arm and flipping his sunglare goggles down. He looked over at Doan and shrugged. "Those of us who can't fly are going to be hurting the worst."

            "Let the oldest person here remind all of you that Mega Man could never truly 'fly' himself." Pharaoh Man piped up, perching himself on Bastion's shoulder and lazily kicking his legs into the air. "And yet that didn't stop him from ending Wily's schemes time and time again."

            "You hold such knowledge with practiced ease." Bastion said with a small smile, letting his eyes scan up to Pharaoh Man. "But do you know that there are historians in our present day that would nearly murder to obtain such long lost primary accounts?"

            "Man has a habit of shooting itself in the foot that way." Allegro snapped, tucking his beam staff away. "They lost nearly all data about the Robot Rebellions and the Age of Robots thanks to the War of 2090. They nearly lost themselves and Earth to the Wars of 2040. And doubtless they'd do something stupid like it again."

            "Aah, but therein lies the question." Horn said thoughtfully, lifting a finger up. "Just what causes humanity to act so self-destructively?"

            "Och, that's the easy one to answer." Willow said quietly. "They move past a period of great turbulence and try their best to uphold values and beliefs that will prevent them from falling into the trap again." She pulled her cloak tighter around her body and shook her head. "But then they forget. They forget about what their madness causes. Their population, once so decimated and tiny, grows large and stagnant. They lose sight of what's truly important, they quibble over the most minor of details…and because of this, they never see the true doom coming."

            She turned and gazed around the room, her green eyes cold. "That same shadow has come and gone a thousand times before. But now we have a chance to stop it. We can break the cycle here and now." She shook her head. "That's why Ice Beacon cannot succeed. If it does…then the madness has won. Stupidity has won. And the clearer heads who should have seen it coming will slip into hiding as the world crumbles around us…or they will go insane trying to deal with a reality that's skewed so far off of the mark."

            Pharaoh Man hopped down and looked at his arm gauntlet.

            "Duo…"

            "Pardon?" Hazil queried, looking up with a wrinkled frown. Everyone else in the room was similarly befuddled by the statement.

            "Duo." Pharaoh Man said again. He looked around and shrugged. "Duo was another robot during the later part of the Robot Rebellions. I met him shortly before…Before the Cataclysm."

            "I don't recall ever reading about him…" Bastion mused.

            "No, you wouldn't have." Pharaoh Man said sadly, his eyes growing dimmer. "But he lived. Duo wasn't from Earth, he came from somewhere beyond our reckoning, almost beyond our comprehension. He helped Mega Man to put an end to Wily and the spaceborne power source that the infamous madman had come across in the Eighth Robot Rebellion. Afterwards, he stuck around and chose to continue to help Mega Man. It wasn't his fight, but he felt compelled to fight it anyway."

            "So what does this Duo have to do with our current situation?"

            "I heard from Blues once that Duo had a mental capability not seen in other robots. Something that the gigantic monstrosity called 'mentalics'. And one question he always asked himself was why this planet had not died, as it most likely should have."

            "What was his answer?"

            "It was Mega Man." Pharaoh Man finished calmly. He lowered his arm down to his side and nodded his head. "His answer was the Blue Bomber. Because Mega Man never once stopped fighting. No matter what the odds, Rock kept the world from slipping into madness time and time again. Never once asking what was in it for him…just knowing that there was no one else who could do it." Pharaoh Man turned to Willow and nodded his head. "If this is truly as climactic as you say it is…then we cannot fail. In the truest tradition of the greatest robot ever created, we are incapable of it. I always thought that Duo somehow knew what was coming. And if he predicted this…know that there is hope."

            Doan finally decided to end his silence, clearing his throat a little louder than normal and bringing the focus of the conversation to him. He looked around and nodded his head once.

            "Enough talk, all. We only get one shot at this. So let's go and make it count." The grim tone of Doan was enough to end the jocularity and bring them back into focus.

            The warriors against MI9 and Ice Beacon brought themselves together into a group. Bastion, Bristol, Wycost, Willow, Pharaoh Man, Doan, and Allegro.

            Standing on the other end of the room, Hazil, Cleo, and Julius Kinnian Horn also clustered as one. The two factions gave each other one last nod, and Cleo had the final word.

            "Come back alive."

            Doan's mouth twitched in the closest thing to a smile he'd displayed today. Wycost flashed a thumbs up.

            And then that was it. The seven who were to go on the attack warped out as one, a powerful set of warp signatures that clung to each other during the transit.

            Hazil's eyes fell dim and he walked over to Horn, offering one sigh.

            "Why do I feel we've sent them to die?"

            "Oh, that's just your pragmatism talking." Horn chided. "They'll do fine." Cleo remained silent on the issue, choosing to purse her lips and fold her arms together.

            But thirteen years of personal experience about these things didn't ease Hazil's poor mind at all.

            Sigma and the Mavericks appeared on the abandoned forefront of Hokkaido Island, overlooking the sea and a powerful sunset that seemed to carry on with no end.

            For every Maverick but Sigma, this place held no meaning. For the Maverick Lord, seeing this location again, returning here awoke ancient memories he had thought lost to him long ago.

            Kazok and the other five Generals were too edgy and alert for the Hunter's approach to care about anything else. But Iris, the one Maverick who did not bend to the traditional attitudes of a Maverick, who had feelings and was not afraid to show them, looked expectantly towards Sigma and noticed the dull stare in his eyes.

            "What are you thinking about?" She asked him quietly, her small eyes looking into his bright red ones. Sigma didn't bother to look down at her, but continued to stare, overwhelmed by his memories returning.

            "Sigma?"

            "What."

            "What are you thinking?"

            "That I have been here before…in a past life I've almost forgotten about." Sigma finally replied, looking down. "And I remember that night clearly, now that I am here again."

            "What happened here before?"

            "I was destroyed under the light of a blood red sky at sunset thirteen years before." Sigma answered. "I fought to the end, but I was destroyed."

            "By Zero?"

            "By Mega Man X." Sigma said coldly. He shook his head. "No, Zero did not make it that far before Vile did away with him. It was only because of his rage and tempest emotions that Mega Man X overcame me that night."

            "Just reliving the past?" Iris asked softly.

            "Reliving the painful past can be a painful thing, my dear." Sigma told her.

            "So why do you do it?"

            "My pain gives me strength to go on." Sigma answered. "Until the time comes that this pointless conflict ceases, I will remember. And I will push through the pain to find the power it offers."

            "And when we win?" Iris asked, looking at him sadly. "When the Mavericks triumph and reploidkind is free from humanity's oppression? What will you do then?"

            "Guide them." Sigma snapped, a sudden mirth popping up to his face. "Somebody must show reploidkind that we have no limits. And I can only do what I think is right."

            Iris smiled, that innocent smile only she could give with her gentility and naiveté combined.

            Kazok cleared his throat, and his eyes darkened.

            "They're here."

            In a vast array of warp beams, fifteen Maverick Hunters led by X and Zero appeared in front of them. Sigma narrowed his eyes for a moment, but remained unfazed. The odds of the foes staring him down did not upset him in the least. He could destroy ten of them by himself without going too far down in his power reserves.

            X was without any of his armor sets. He stood only in the suit of armor he had been born with, and the Dash Boots he had been given long ago. Grim determination burned in his eyes, and that's what made Sigma smile.

            Determination more than made up for a lot of things. Besides, Sigma recalled, X still had his Narwhal Cannon and the Koala Slash from more than a year ago.

            Zero stood as ready as he ever was, jaw clenched firmly and his right hand at his waist, flexing automatically as if ready to draw his saber at a moment's notice. And the rest of the Maverick Hunters looked just as angry.

            Sigma smiled even wider. So, they were angry, were they?? That made this all the more interesting.

            Kazok primed his Buster up and popped his Gravicrystals, letting them activate and begin to float around his body. Dash popped her claws and snarled, and the other Maverick Generals performed their own acts of preparation. Iris merely raised her magrifle and chambered a round.

            X stepped forward and looked at Sigma, standing so smug in his new battle body.

            "Sigma, you die here today."

            "I've heard that many a time before." Sigma replied easily. "What makes this death any more permanent than all the other times you've vaporized me with plasma, Mega Man X??"

            X had no response. Sigma snorted.

            "No quick witticism? Very well. I too, grow tired of our meaningless conversations, altered in form only by the diatribes used." Sigma drew his massive paw up and motioned for the Hunters to attack. "Give it your best shot."

            And as one, the Maverick Hunters charged at the Mavericks.

            "You guys ready for this?" Kazok called back warily to his comrades.

            "We've been ready since Karashita." Burst chuckled.

            Fifteen miles off, the rest of the elite Hunters appeared in warplight. Far away from the action.

            Gavin checked his comm, bringing it up to speak.

            "You sure this is going to work, Signas?"

            "Trust the brain." Signas replied mirthfully. "Five seconds until the Landchasers make it to you."

            "Any Ride Chasers??"

            "You know as well as I do that those lack maneuverability. Trust me on this, you may be missing the plasma cutter on the bottom of your nose, but you'll appreciate the Landchaser's more basic qualities." Signas answered.

            Just as he finished talking, they appeared beside the Maverick Hunters. Jad and Kol turned to the others and nodded their heads, then turned to Gavin.

            "Whenever you're ready, boss."

            "Best of luck to you all. And remember; nobody warps out. We can only trace the first signal to leave the battlefield." Came the voice of their spotter.

            "We know, base. Hunter Party 2 out." Gavin chirped. He shut his comm off and hopped onto his own Landchaser.

            Some of the other Hunters looked at Gavin in respect. Some of them looked at him as an equal. And some of the hotshots even looked down on him. But all waited for his order.

            Gavin gunned the Microfusion engine of his Landchaser and set the repulsors to standard, lifting his hovercycle off the ground a good foot in the air. His command was short.

            "Let's go get 'em."

            A half mile above Ice Beacon, seven warp signatures blinked into full life. Every single one of them heard the blaring klaxons tear to life as their sound sensors kicked back in. They continued to fall, plummeting meteors of metal.

            Wycost grinned and primed his Buster in response to the far reaching sound. "Looks like they're trying to start the party without us."

            "Standard GDC klaxon type Beta!!" Bristol hollered back over their synchronized comm frequency. "They're not prepared to launch yet, but they know they have company."

            "Namely us, lass." Willow said drily, pulling her beam whip out and extending the chain, but not igniting it yet.

            Bastion and Doan, the only two who had any true power of flight, popped their wings and set the systems on as soon as they could. But Doan found that his own descent came more raggedly than Bastion's simple mental drop. The Ghost Wind frowned. "I need to resynchronize my Thruster Controls."

            "Do it on the fly, Doan." Wycost chirped up. "We have company!"

            Pharaoh Man's eyes narrowed. "Terrific. Air mines."

            From below, over twenty mortar barrels fired, hurling up supersensitive explosives to hover up in the air as a destructive barrier between the intruders and Ice Beacon. The field it placed was huge, a good two hundred yard spread in both directions. There was no way that the non-flight members of the strike team could maneuver their way free of the field.

            "Damn 'em all…" Willow snarled. She hit her comm. "Anybody have a bright idea?"

            "Funny you should mention that word." Pharaoh Man said, with a small amount of mirth. He held both hands above his head, drawing in more and more power until it shone like a second sun in the sky. With a powerful bellow and a mighty swing, he fired the sunshine blast of plasmic energy below, clearing a path fifteen feet wide beneath him through the field. The explosions jarred the others, making the hole thirty feet wide by the time the nearby mines finished exploding.

            Willow blinked in amazement, then turned to the ancient Robot Master.

            "Just what the Hell do you call that little trick?!" Pharaoh Man looked across the air as they continued to fall and smiled.

            "Not bad for a 'mere robot', eh?" Willo turned red at the comment, and Pharaoh Man laughed. "Don't worry. No harm done. And that 'little trick' is my Pharaoh Shot."

            "It's got one Hell of a kick to it." Allegro called over. "If I had a Buster, I'd salute you."

            "Aw, Hell. I'll do the saluting for ya." Wycost snorted, pointing his overcharged Buster at the minefield and clearing a similar path, widening the hole through the minefield.

            Through Wycost's and Pharaoh Man's attacks, the strike team made it through the mine field without a problem. The rest exploded automatically above them after a preset time, leaving the sky covered in smoke…a vision of things yet to come.

            Allegro drew his beam staff and ignited it as they continued to fall, then took a moment to stare at Ice Beacon below.

            "So this is the end of the world as we know it…" He mused, staring at the concave transmission assembly that had been carved out of the glacial ice.

            He harrumphed with a sardonic grin.

            "Goddamn thing looks like the inside of an orange."

            "Commander, they made it past the air mines!!" Came the frightened voice of the man operating the radar. Kowalski cursed and slammed his fist onto the arm of his chair.

            "Blast it, HOW…" He shook his head. "Deploy the SAMs. Take them down. Take them down NOW!!"

            Bastion's helmet visor detected the threat first. Sensing the multiple heat plumes from below, it blared an angry warble that made him cringe.

            "Surface to Air Missiles!" He shouted out. "Evasive maneuvers!"

            "Already covered, boss." Wycost rang out triumphantly. He primed his Buster into Narwhal Striker mode and activated the target pips on his visor.

            Fifteen targets appeared, all approaching far too fast for comfort. He could make out the outlines of the SAM's casings, but even clearer than the black speck was the flaming plume trailing behind them all.

            "Damn, this is gonna take more than I want…" Wycost cursed as he locked onto them all.

            In a flurry of shots, his homing explosive burrowing missiles soared down and met their larger, more traditional cousins in flight, destroying each other on contact. Wycost shook his head and fired off another barrage, this time at the SAM sites themselves. They all exploded into scrap on contact, and a contented Wycost chirped his response over the comm.

            "SAMs and SAM launchers destroyed, Bastion. But my Narwhal Striker energy is down to 40%."

            "Confirmed, Wycost. And thanks for the save." Bastion chirped back. "It wouldn't do to have us being blasted out of the sky before this thing is fried."

            Bristol also breathed a silent sigh of relief, looking up to Bastion for reassurance.

            "This has to work." She told herself. "This has to."

            "Damnit, they got through!" Came the radar operator's pained cry. "SAMs were shot down in flight, and the launchers are fragged, sir!" Kowalski gripped tighter onto the arm of his command chair.

            "Erect the protective EM shield over Ice Beacon. They must NOT destroy it. Deploy the Enhanceds to meet them head on…we're ending this now." Kowalski snapped.

            The operators in the room gave each other a few furtive glances of worry before turning back to their stations and issuing the orders.

            On one operator's screen, an image of Ice Beacon, the heart of the entire operation that they had labeled 'The Cleansing', gained a thin protective bubble around it.

            Kowalski grinned at the sight.

            "Let's see those cybernetic bastards blow their way through that."

            "Command acknowledged. Enhanceds are on their way, sir." An operator called out. "ETA until intruder's landing, twenty seconds."

            "Tell the Enhanceds to engage on the way down." Kowalski barked. "No survivors."

            Calmly, the commander of MI9's grand project Ice Beacon relaxed back in his chair, to all outward appearances confident and self-assured of their victory.

            But inside was a different story.

            _Willow…__Bristol__…_

_            You two just don't know when to die, do you??_

            Lon and Kwai were both safe in bed, dozing away calmly into the lands of night. Tia Xiang thanked the stars for that much. She also took a moment to give thanks for the fact that their sickness had broke. Disease always came easier to children…

            She had enough things to spend her time focusing on right now. And none of those things were her children…

            _Wycost…Falling down on a land of ice??_

She frowned for a moment, but kept her eyes closed, pushing past her normal sight and tapping into something that stretched beyond normal comprehension. Silently, she rocked back and forth in her chair, the warm mug of tea held between her hands. She kept it higher up than most people did…the herbal vapors the tea let off helped her visions when she needed it to.

            Yes, she could see him there…But she could see the others as well…

            Not their faces, precisely. Her vision didn't come like a camera. No…

            It was more…of an impression. Their minds. Or perhaps it went deeper than that.

            Wycost, she knew already. Wycost, the scarred warrior. And the others…

            The angel of compassion…

            The angel of destiny…

            The survived brother…

            The relic, resurrected to new life…

            One who howled like the wind…

            And…

            She frowned at the last one for a moment. It was harder to identify this one. Yet, somehow a part of Tia felt that…

            _Of course._

            It was her.

            The angel of redemption.

            But there her vision suddenly darkened, then shattered apart. Tia screamed in dismay, clutching at her head in pain and paying no attention to the mug of tea she dropped onto the floor, or the stain that developed on the carpet. A few moments later, she collapsed onto the floor.

            She trembled there for several moments, eyes wide open in her shivers. Her mental excursion had been cut off abruptly, and now instead of impressions, those people hovering around Wycost, everything had become…

            _Clouds…endless, black angry clouds…_

            "Mommy?" Came the muffled and sleepy voice of Lon. The mother breathed in and out slowly, focusing on the voice.

            _My children…go back to my children…_

            By the time Tia regained her senses, Lon was shaking her, obviously in distress.

            "Mommy, wake up!!" He cried out. "Wake up, mommy!!"

            Slowly, Tia drew the young boy into a tight hug, letting his sudden panic and fear ebb away. She brushed at his head, shushing both his voice and his mind with calming thoughts and sounds.

            "Shh. I'm all right, Lon. Mommy's all right." She pulled away slightly and looked into his face, its panic subdued but still present. "See?"

            Slowly, the boy nodded his head. "You were acting funny again, mommy. Like last time."

            Tia winced. The last time one of her psychic visions had turned into an episode, she hadn't snapped out of it for three hours.

            Thankfully, this had lasted only seconds.

            _Well, there's improvement for you._

            "Hush, Lon. Mommy's fine now. Mommy's fine." She reassured him.

            The gentle mental waves of soothing calm she was pushing onto his mind did more to console him than her words did.

            Slowly, Lon felt himself growing groggy again, then yawned and lazily blinked his eyes.

            "Feeling sleepy, honey?"

            "Mmmhmmm." Came Lon's subdued response.

            "Do you want to go back to bed?"

            "Yes."

            "Well, okay then. Good night, dear."

            "Night mommy. I love you." Lon said, giving her a quick hug. Tia hugged him back, smiling at the gesture.

            "Mommy loves you too." She replied. Reluctantly, Lon pulled himself away from her and tottered back to his room.

            Which left Tia alone once more in the apartment's living room…

            Calmly, she looked around, then grimaced at the stain on her carpet.

            "Well, that's going to be fun to remove." She muttered, picking up the spilled coffee mug and staring despairingly at its empty state.

            Tia Xiang smoothed out her dress, then took the mug into the kitchen and set it in the sink.

            It was then that she looked out of the kitchen window and up to the sky.

            Still fading into darkness. Just like her visions were. And that was what frightened Tia. That she couldn't see past the darkness. All was just clouds, an angry storm front that had yet to pass.

            If such a barrier existed between her and the future…if her Oracle's Curse had been blunted…

            Just what did that mean??

            For once, Tia didn't know.

            "Wycost…"

            The Hunter's plan had been to surround the Mavericks, Sigma thought calmly. There was no way that was going to happen. Not with this bunch in tow. Sigma jumped up into the air beside Burst Scarab and unleashed an explosive missile assault that prevented the craftier elites from flanking them. Dolph Reach played defense, summoning his plasmic energy hands and batting away the Buster shots that drew too close to his airborne comrades.

            Their flanking maneuver blunted, the Hunters found that they had only one way to go; straight into their enemies' waiting jaws. Cumulus Bull and the raging lightning storm crashing behind the massed Hunters ensured that.

            Zero pushed himself towards the back of the Hunters, desperately reaching out for the elites running for their lives from Cumulus's attack.

            "X, stop that bull Maverick!" He barked into his comm. "Otherwise, we're gonna have fried Hunter for dinner tonight!"

            Up at the front, X grimaced at the news. He turned around and looked over at Guernica, an eccentric but far too capable magrifle sureshot at the front of the pack. At the moment, Guernica was busy with his Buster, blowing away shot for shot that the crafty Kazok Gravor was throwing down.

            "Oh, sure. NOW they decide to toy with us." X grumbled, igniting his dash thrusters and blasting himself farther on.

            Kazok took notice of the Blue Bomber's presence as soon as the first errant streak of plasma came soaring by his ear. X activated the comm in his helmet and spoke up for Guernica.

            "Guer, target the bull Maverick. I'll deal with the flyer!!" Guernica tipped his cowboy hat in reply and backflipped away from Kazok, his Buster vanishing back into a hand.

            Kazok frowned at the sight of his prey escaping, then floated down until he was staring X nearly at eye level. He let his Buster fade out for his hand, then folded them.

            "I thought you were dead. Or nearly so." Kazok murmured disapprovingly. "And then you go and issue this stupid challenge…just what do you think it's going to solve?"

            "The truth is this challenge solves nothing." X glowered back. "This whole stupid series of conflicts, these Maverick Uprisings and Incidents…they're all meaningless. In the end, the challenge did one thing and one thing alone."

            "What?"

            "It got you and the other Mavericks away from civilians." X finished. He lifted his Buster and fired.

            Before X's eyes, Kazok's gravicrystals sprang forth, rotating faster and faster in a circle…but not around him, instead now in front of him. A gravity shield.

            The supershot X had fired was suddenly slowed, then torn asunder by the intense gravitational forces.

            Kazok smirked.

            "Is that the best you can do? God, perhaps you truly are pathetic without your armors."

            "Oh, I'm just getting Frigging WARMED UP!!!" X barked. He charged at Kazok, Buster charging once more.

            Meanwhile, Guernica had been given a small moment of air to breathe. He took the opportunity to push back his leather trenchcoat's side and pull out his first magrifle.

            "Lock and load." He commented quietly to himself. The magrifle came up into his sniper's stance as easy as breathing, and he narrowed his eyes along the scope.

            There was the bull Maverick, sure enough. And from the dancing electrical storm bouncing off of his horns, he was the source of the freak storm tearing apart the back rows.

            "Well then, it's not skeet…but I guess it'll do." He said, pulling the trigger. The bullet blasted forth, pushed by the powerful electromagnetic superchargers in the gun's barrel.

            Straight and true it soared on ahead, piercing through the control mechanism of Cumulus Bull's lightning focusing horn. The rest of the bullet's inertia tore the entire thing clean off of his head and removed the safety barrier. In one swift movement, Cumulus Bull found his head in incredible pain…and it was about to get worse.

            The reports filed the next day would indicate Cumulus Bull's demise was a case of cause and effect. Guernica was one of the surviving witnesses.

            Without the control that his right horn held, Cumulus Bull lost all will and power over the electrical storm he was summoning down. Unable to direct it outwards at his opponents, the Maverick found that the attack came back to the source, arcing through his body at unparalleled excruciating intensity. He roared in pain as every joint and metallic muscle in his body went rigid, arcing him nearly backwards.

            Guernica harrumphed for a moment, then pulled up the magrifle again and aimed for the Maverick's forehead.

            "Game over." The sound of the blast came after the bullet had left the gun, and somehow mixed with the noise of the magrifle slug tearing through the Tarusoid class reploid's head.

            As the bullet passed out the back, it took components along with it, including the Maverick's control chip, hopelessly shattered.

            Cumulus Bull's electrical storm attack faded away as his body and horribly mangled head collapsed onto the ground, never to move again. With his brains blown out, there was very little that could be done.

            Every Maverick on the field had turned at the sound of Cumulus Bull's scream, the excruciating agony too much for any of them to ignore. In horror, they had watched a reploid they had once called friend have his life ended, his head blown apart like the inside of a watermelon.

            Now as one of their own now lay beyond redemption, beyond resurrection, the fury of the others ignited. This was no longer just a fight to put the Maverick Hunters in their place and state unanimously that the Mavericks would not be defeated.

            Trying to ignore the burning tears that sprang to his eyes, but failing miserably, Dolph Reach screamed from the depths of his heart.

            "BASTARDS!!!" His blurry vision turned even darker still, a reflection of the sudden red gleam that roared to life.

            Some of the closer Maverick Hunters tried to charge toward Dolph, Busters raised for the attack.

            Dolph's eyes burned into his attackers as his snout snapped together only once. In one massive sweep, the Maverick brought his hands together with a resounding clap of thunder.

            In front of him, six Hunters vanished, crushed by the sheer power of his plasmic hands and his rage.

            Which only left a good thirty or more, The Maverick thought grimly.

            No, correction there. Dash had just sliced through two more. Only 29 left now.

            Iris had not strayed far from Sigma during the entire fight. In fact, the two had developed an incredible strategy that protected them from any fool that dared to draw too close. With both high velocity magrifle rounds and Sigma's shoulder missile launchers, most Hunters found that the only way to stay alive was to go running.

            Iris chambered another clip into her magrifle and backed up beside Sigma.

            "This is insane!!" She called out tersely. Sigma nodded his head at the gravity of her statement, but his face remained fixed in its convoluted pose. If Iris had been able to notice the normally staunch Sigma, she would have seen so many different emotions running through the Maverick King's mind.

            Rage. Mirth. Satisfaction. A cavalier ego. But most of all was a relaxed state…both parts of Sigma's fractured psyche drowning into one after so very long.

            **_Oh, Sigma my boy, doesn't it feel grand?? The wanton destruction, the ease at which you end their pathetic wasted lives?_**

****_Fools…I shall show them the error of their misled ways. They seek to side with the humans, then? Deny me and my reploid brethren our true place in the world?_

_            **People have been killed for less,**_ the voice cackled malevolently. **_I remember a time when you and I clashed for hours on end…arguing semantics about justice and the exact price one has to pay for freedom. _**

****Sigma said nothing back in reply, firing off another missile and sending some of the more foolhardy Hunters scattering to the winds.

            **_Wasted youth. _**The voice finally finished, the humor lost. **_But now…now, my boy, you draw closer to redeeming yourself. And becoming closer to being one with me, whether I like it or not…_**

            _You are The Maverick Virus. I am Sigma._

_            **You USED to be Sigma. You hold onto this notion that there is still some shred of yourself that is preserved. And how do you justify this fantasy?? Memories? Please. Memories can be implanted. Personalities can as well.**_

            _At the same time, you are no longer what you once were. You too have gained personality. Temperaments. There was once a time you were nothing more than three droning commands and a maddening presence. Now you've become like a second me…dependent, responsive, and assistive._

_            **So you suit my purposes, Sigma. **_The voice retorted. **_Don't think I have kept by you out of some promise._**

****_Oh, that's quite all right. _Sigma replied. _I've been using you as well._

_            **Are you sure?? **_The Maverick Virus replied, clamping both hands on his shoulders in a sickening gesture. **_But you are right. The Prime Maverick has renounced me, cleansed himself of even the smallest of my eyes and ears. Know, Sigma, that as long as he lives…neither of us shall know peace. _**

****_You seek after him that badly? _Sigma chided. _Now who's the hopeless romantic??_

_            **Nothing that sentimental, you aged terrorist. **_The Virus shot back quickly, a flash of anger rising up through Sigma's body. **_He and I were designed to be one and the same. Much like I am now with you, only…_**

****_Better?? _Sigma prodded. The Virus remained silent now. Sigma chuckled externally, launching off another missile to keep the Hunters away. _Oh, I'm afraid he's given up on you wholly. You're stuck with me, and I am doomed to remain with you until the both of us are destroyed totally._

_            **What's the difference between life and death, Sigma?? **_The Virus asked quietly. Sigma blinked a few times, unsure of the question.

            _I give up. What is the difference??_

_            **If you don't know that, my Maverick King…then you have no hope to understand just how I truly work.**_

****_Fuck off, Virus._

_            **Heh…There are times I wish I could. Then again, I have no physical body, so I have to derive pleasure from tormenting would-be despots like you about the true darkness of this Universe.**_

            _And what will happen when you die?_

_            **As long as Zero lives…I will as well. Kill him yourself, if you're capable of that act, and then the answer will come to you.**_

            _The bastard still carries my first beam saber._

_            **Hmm, yes he does. But ask yourself; who was it truly meant for in the first place??**_

****_You're as cryptic as the Oracle of __Delphi__._

_            **The Oracle of **_**_Delphi_****_ needed hallucinogenic compounds to keep her visions sustained. I already have everything I need. But I'll enlighten you, Sigma…Resurrecting Iris was truly the darkest, most damaging thing you could have done to my other. For that, I applaud you._**

****_I thought you would scream at me for harming the one you so desperately seek to return to. _Sigma snapped back. The Virus said nothing for a while, but Sigma could still feel it in the back of his mind, pulling away from him for a moment as it contemplated what to say.

            Finally, the Virus floated back, growing wispier and wispier.

            **_Life and death exists on so many different levels, Sigma. There is no black and white. Not in that, not in anything on this mortal coil. The answers you seek to place in my mouth?? Your answer lies in my statement._**

****_And what's the answer?? Don't give me that catch-all about death being only the beginning…_

_            **Oh, give me more credit. I didn't live on longer than most humans left on Earth without gaining personal insights.**_

****_So what's the answer??_

_            **Zero will only truly die when his ultimate self is realized. Until you make this discovery yourself, you can never kill him.**_

****_And X??_

_            **I don't concern myself with weaklings.**_

****_He isn't weak. He's killed you._

_            **True…but if he faced me in all of my power, he would die. Zero would live. Thus, X is weak.**_

****_He may prove you wrong one day, Virus. _Sigma countered. _Or…should I just come out and call you Wily??_

The grizzled old shell of the madman who created the Virus and embedded the most malignant part of his personality into it laughed.

            **_I'm not Wily, my dear Sigma. Wily is dead. As a weak human, he could not live on. I remember watching in satisfaction as Zero crushed his skull, long ago…No. I merely represent the part of him that dreamed of guiding Zero to his ultimate destiny._**

****_Do you feel denied?? _Sigma chuckled, shaking his head a bit. _Poor, poor Maverick Virus…without a true soul to call home._

_            **I live on through others. **_The Virus smirked. **_That is enough._**

            Sigma blinked his eyes once, and found that the Maverick Virus, the very heart of the most devastating infection ever to grace Earth, had slipped back into the shadows and gone dormant.

            Which suited him just fine…

            Disembodied voices was not something he wanted to waste good money on a psychiatrist for. He popped his claws, one TitaniTefloAlloy and the other plasma, and laughed a long and sickeningly dark cackle.

            Behind him, Iris turned about with a startled look on her face.

            Sigma crouched lower to the ground and set his sights on the closest pack of Hunters.

            "Coming, Iris??" He asked, his insane breed of glee bursting through his voice.

            But still, Iris merely smiled her head trustingly, pushed back her bedraggled hair and slung the magrifle over her shoulder, pulling out her pink beam saber and coaxing it to life with a deft flick of her thumb.

            "Till death do us part." She sang out triumphantly.

            And a part of Sigma still chuckled.

            The mobile force thought they had a straight shot to land on Ice Beacon, to annihilate the project with one quick and deadly thrust.

            All hopes of that possibility were dashed when Wycost, Willow, Bristol, Pharaoh Man and Allegro suddenly impacted on an invisible barrier that flared to angry life, shocking them for a brief moment before scattering them off to the sides. Their anguished and sudden screams of pain did not escape Doan and Bastion, the only two flight capable fighters of the squad who veered to the side to avoid the newly appeared energy barrier.

            "BLAST!" Willow screamed, milliseconds before she collapsed facefirst into the ice and light snow surrounding the transmitter dish formed entirely of ice. Pharaoh Man grunted, but said nothing. Wycost muttered a half formed curse under his breath. Only Allegro came up with a comment after the botched attack, pulling himself from the ground with more than a miffed attitude.

            "THAT certainly didn't work."

            "Damn them." Bastion growled underneath his breath. "They've erected an EM shield around Ice Beacon's transmitter!!"

            "A particularly powerful one, if it was able to deflect us so easily." Bristol said shakily, holding her left arm with her right. Concerned, Willow looked over at the limping Bristol.

            "You all right, lass?"

            "I've been better." Bristol said through clenched teeth. "My arm feels like a lightning bolt went through it."

            "The effects should subside soon." Wycost replied over his comm, lifting up the sunglare visor back into his helmet and disengaging its scanning mechanisms. "This thing is designed to keep us out and deflect nearly everything we could throw at it, but it has no true attack power. Think of it as just having your arm put to sleep."

            "Terrific." Bastion snarled. "In the meantime, the countdown proceeds onwards until launch and we're stuck going down the river without a paddle to our name."

            "Oh, we're not out yet." Pharaoh Man said calmly. He picked himself up from the ground and looked around. "Company's coming."

            Allegro brought his beam staff up to bear, narrowing his eyes. "MI9 stock, completely."

            "You were expecting Mavericks?" Willow scoffed, snapping her beam whip across the EM barrier behind them. The band of MI9 Enhanceds drew nearer, but Willow took another moment to examine the angry flickering of the shield that prevented even physical blows from striking through. "Not good. Plasma, physical, warp…nothing is getting through this."

            "Remember MI9's outposts, the ones that we helped to design?" Bristol asked calmly, reactivating her pink beam saber and holding it in front of her. "These shields are difficult to maintain at best."

            "Your mind must really be returning if you recall THAT little detail." Willow chuckled morosely. "Aye, I remember well, lass. We just have to look for the emitter."

            "Don't you mean the Shield Generator?" Doan said easily, hovering down beside them. The Ghost Wind was given a glaring look by both female reploids of MI9.

            "Doan, does this LOOK like fugghin' Star Wars?" Willow demanded. "Give us a little more credit for originality in the name. But yes, the purpose is about the same."

            "So then, we just need to find it." Bastion echoed. He pulled out both beam sabers and stared at the oncoming hordes. "If we ever find the time to, that is."

            "Time we don't have, my fellow freaks." Allegro growled, clicking his heels together. "Whoever's going to play hide and seek with the shit we need to shut down, go. I'm staying to fight."

            The rest of the team looked around at their comrades, silently mulling in their heads as to what they would do.

            _Stay and fight the Enhanceds…or seek out the shield emitter??_

"I'll stay." Doan harrumphed. He hovered down beside Doan and drew out his beam lance, letting the massive blade hiss to life. "Funny…the actions we take here today are considered Maverick by most."

            "Oh, that's the true beauty of this." Pharaoh Man murmured, drawing beside them and clenching his hands into two fists, gentle locuses of golden light surrounding them. "Just how far does one adhere to the rules?? Is it worth letting an entire race die, just so one can show that they are rational by the definition of the murderers??"

            "If preventing the demise of the reploid race is considered the action of a menace, then I'll gladly take on the title." Bastion chuckled over the comm. "I was given it once involuntarily because religious extremists gave me life and my mission of mindless destruction. I renounced it eventually to regain my life. I shall go with Bristol…"

            "Doan, Phare, Allegro…" Bristol began calmly. "Don't get killed. I'm going to try and find the shield emitter."

            "You're not going alone, lass." Willow scoffed, running up beside her longtime comrade in arms. "I've just gotten you back, and I'll be damned if you'll die on me and anyone else again."

            "Wycost? What's your move?" Doan asked, turning about.

            The Bronx Bomber maneuvered his jaw around a bit, then shook his head.

            "I stay." He walked beside Doan and shook his head. "For the moment."

            Willow, Bristol, and Bastion looked at the others.

            "Keep your comms open." Bastion finally mouthed.

            Wycost chuckled a bit and began to charge up a shot. "What, do you think I'm going to die on ya that easy?"

            "No. I just like hearing you try to not let that Bronx accent sink into your maledictions."

            Wycost laughed a little bit, more to relieve his tension than anything else. "Get going, you three. We'll do our best."

            "WYCOST." Bristol suddenly barked.

            "Y0?"

            The blond bombshell looked over, a sudden fear flashing in her eyes. "Don't die."

            Wycost tsked and flipped his sunglare goggles/visor down. "Wasn't planning on it, doll." He turned about and stared at the oncoming Enhanced humans, barreling down on them at speeds normally impossible to others of their kind. "Now get going. If this is going to work at all, that EM shield needs to be shut down. And you three are the only ones that can do it."

            "Just the ones crazy enough to try." Willow snorted. "Don't come after us. Just get out."

            "MOVE, DAMNIT!!" Wycost barked back. At that moment, the closest Enhanced human let out a war scream and barreled down on top of the pack. Startled, Allegro brought his beam staff up and deflected the initial swipe from their attacker.

            Without further hesitation, Bastion grabbed Bristol and Willow with both arms and took them into the air.

            The rest of the Enhanced humans soon came after the first, all screaming a horrendous noise of destruction. Despite himself, Bastion bit his lip in frustration.

            As the Enhanceds closed in, a brilliant flash of light lit up the entire area, blinding most of them. Screaming, they jumped back away, doing their best to maintain some semblance of self-defense. From the spreading out maelstrom of MI9 agents, a glint of metallic green that could only be Wycost shook his free hand up towards the three of them in the air.

            "You three get out of here!! We'll hold them off!"

            Two Enhanceds vanished in a sudden blast of plasmic fire sent out by Pharaoh Man, and soon after the smallish robot leapt up into the air and far away from the center of the circle, carrying Allegro in tow. Doan merely floated above the stumbling Enhanceds and quickly parried away the beam staffs of those that had survived the sudden flare of Wycost's Strobe Flash.

            Bristol looked on in stunned horror, unable to say or do anything. It was Bastion that took the initiative, shaking both her and Willow.

            "Which way now?"

            Willow clucked her tongue. "Knowing MI9, the heart of this place is buried. Like everything else they do, they can't stand being seen. The darkest parts of it are always right underneath the surface."

            "So?"

            "Look for something slightly amiss, lad, and there's your entrance." Willow said plainly. She pulled her cape tighter around herself and shook her head. "Chilly out today…I don't know how you can stand this cold."

            "It's a change from what I'm used to." Bastion shrugged. "Snow instead of sand." He narrowed his eyes and scoured about, then grunted with his head towards a small structure lowering itself into the ground. "What's that?"

            "Transport elevator!!" Willow barked as they howled in closer to it. "That's our way in!"

            Bristol remained mute, eyes staring blankly ahead at nothing in particular. As Bastion landed and released them, he noticed her sudden change.

            "Bristol, what's wrong?"

            _Ice Beacon…it's happening…God, it's still happening…_

_            Those four…we left them behind…_

"Don't worry about those boys, Bristol me lass." Willow chuffed gruffly, pulling out her beam whip and slashing it angrily across the top of the descended elevator shaft. "They know how to take care of themselves." In an angry flash of sparks and a final hiss, the elevator's rooftop gave way to the burning strength of Willow's lash, collapsing in on itself and revealing their entryway down into the heart of Ice Beacon.

            "Wycost is not one to forget his promises." Bastion reassured her, putting a hand on Bristol's shoulder. "He said they'd be fine, and they will."

            Numbly, Bristol nodded her head and turned about to the hole. Willow stood there, arms clenched in nervousness. "Bristol, lass, I need ye focused on the here and now. With us. Like it or not, you've got to help us. You're one of the few people who can."

            Bristol nodded again, forcing feeling into her eyes and shrugging off the exterior signs of her thoughts.

            With Willow leading and Bastion guarding the rear, the three jumped down the long path to Ice Beacon and the troubles within.

            But even then, Bristol's heart remained troubled.

            **_It could still fail…_**

            Kalinka awoke suddenly a few hours after she had fallen asleep, a nameless fear creeping into her heart. Quickly as she could for her age, she pulled herself out of bed and put on a simple skirt and blouse, pulling her favorite red overcoat about her shoulders to stave off the mild chill in the air.

            She pushed open the bulky wooden door to her room and walked out into the hallways, peering about. "Phare?"

            Strangely, the silver and goldenrod robot was not guarding her door. Kalinka looked closer and noticed a shadow being cast into her field of vision at the crossway ten meters down the hall…

            "Phare, is that you??" Unsteadily, she stepped down the hallway and turned the corner.

            Her eyes fell as Ring Man shambled into her field of vision. "Oh."

            "Pardon?" Ring Man queried calmly, his optics blinking once. "What troubles you, Mistress Kalinka?"

            "I was looking for Pharaoh Man." Kalinka replied slowly. She looked behind her. "I was hoping he would be here."

            The Robot Master blinked a few more times, then began to juggle a pair of Ring Boomerangs he summoned out of thin air. "It seems illogical that Pharaoh Man would be here. At last download, the chore list indicated only Dust Man came up to this portion of the castle for cleaning purposes."

            "It's got nothing to do with assigned duties, Ring." Kalinka added quietly. "I just…thought he might want to be close to me."

            "Aah, you refer to the new relationship that you two share." Ring Man surmised, his pace slowing until he reluctantly let his Ring Boomerangs fade back away. "Yes, he probably would choose to be close to you, if…" Ring Man stopped midsentence, then turned abruptly away. "Excuse me. I must be returning to my duties now."

            Something in how Ring Man had cut himself short made Kalinka's attention shift entirely to him. She narrowed her eyes and grabbed his arm before he could escape.

            "Ring Man, what are you hiding?" She asked quietly. Ring Man did not move. Kalinka's gaze hardened even further. "Ring Man, look at me."

            Now as her words shifted from question to command, Ring Man felt the inevitable control of the Three Laws kick in, forcing him to comply. Slowly, the Robot Master turned about and looked at Kalinka, trying his best to remain expressionless.

            "What is it you are hiding?" She asked again. "I _order_ you to tell me."

            **_2nd Law: A robot must obey all orders given by a human being, unless such orders would conflict with the First Law. (Modified: or if such orders would conflict with the Third Law unnecessarily)_**

**ANo immediate conflict with First Law. No conflict with Third Law. However, danger of eventual emotional harm does exist…**

**            B Eventual harm identified; possible emotional trauma to Mistress Kalinka Cossack from identification of Pharaoh Man's whereabouts is confirmed.**

**            C Secondary harm confirmed: Not knowing Pharaoh Man's whereabouts may cause emotional trauma as well.**

**               Decide greater trauma…**

**            A Error.**

Blankly, Ring Man stared out into empty void, his mind racing and racing through the cyclical process of weighing and measuring the greater harm to Kalinka.

            **_1st Law: A robot must not harm, or through inaction, allow harm to come to a human being._**

****"Ring…RING…RING!!!" Kalinka screamed, shaking the Robot Master.

            **C Warning. Causal loop confirmed…answer must be found, or mind freeze will initiate.**

"Ring Man, don't do this to me!!" Kalinka screamed, shaking him even harder. "I can't lose you!!"

            **B Answer confirmed…Harm to Mistress Kalinka is inevitable either way. Differences immeasurable.**

**            Consensus Inform Mistress Kalinka of truth.**

And just as suddenly as it had set in, Ring Man blinked out of his causal loop, breathing a silent sigh of relief that once more, he had avoided the state known as mind freeze. How Pharaoh Man had been able to achieve it was beyond him, because Ring had been paralyzed by the laws, helpless in their clutching grasp as they argued amongst themselves what was the least damaging course of action.

            _How Phare triumphed over such an immovable power is beyond logic._

            "Pharaoh Man is not here, Mistress Kalinka." Ring Man said calmly, pushing her hands away from his shoulders. He backed up and shook his head. "Earlier today while you slept, he received a message from our…friends…at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters."

            "Mega Man X?"

            "Hazil." Ring Man corrected. "Pharaoh Man chose to take a temporary leave of absence from us to help them."

            "Is he going to be fighting more Mavericks??" Kalinka asked, a sudden fear washing over her heart.

            "If that was the case, madam, myself and the others that construct 'The Foregone Five' would have gone along with him." Ring Man reassured her. "No, he went alone on this mission, because thanks to the truth that his mind is no longer controlled by the Rules of Robotics, he is the only one of us that COULD attempt this mission without danger of mind freeze."

            Blankly, Kalinka looked at the Robot Master for a few moments. Ring Man sighed internally.

            "The mission he has volunteered for is one where he will be fighting humans."

            Kalinka's jaw dropped.

            Ring Man cleared his throat. "Let me continue. I assure you, there are mitigating circumstances."

            "No, there can't be…robots can't…no…"

            "A small portion of the forces at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters are leading an attack on a group of humans that seek to destroy all reploids." Ring Man added easily. "That is why Pharaoh Man felt he needed to go on the mission. Mavericks were a danger to both humanity and reploids. That is why we were brought together to form the Foregone Five. Now, it seems, the danger has tilted to complete genocide of the reploid race. And such actions, by humanity's main credos and beliefs, are inexcusable and unallowable."

            Numbly, Kalinka collapsed to the floor on her knees, staring at the wall. Ring Man knelt down beside her and put a comforting arm on her shoulder.

            "It is difficult to deal with, I know."

            "No, that's not it." Kalinka murmured, shaking her head. "Humans are fully capable of such atrocities. I don't have a hard time believing that, or that a small portion of the Maverick Hunters are trying to stop them. It's that…" Her voice became more choked up, filled with a sudden sadness, and her eyes began to glisten with the beginning of tears.

            "What?" Ring Man asked, tensing up. She was feeling pain…harm. That distinctive quality about humans that was so difficult to properly identify, but constituted the basis of the core programming that controlled his life. Instinctively, his mind raced for a way to prevent it, to lessen it.

            To his chagrin, Ring Man concluded there was no way he could stop her pain.

            "I almost lost him once…" Kalinka wheezed, barely able to talk straight. She turned her face up and looked at Ring Man, shaking her head, the glistening saltwater beginning to run down her face. "I…Can't lose him again. I can't. I don't know what I'd do…" Finally, her fragile shell broke apart and she collapsed into Ring Man, who caught her easily and held her to him, preventing her from collapsing to the ground.

            Her sobs were muffled against Ring Man's armor, her thinning and whitening blond hair covering her face from view.

            "Phare…if you go out there and die…I don't know what I'd do…Please, Phare, don't die. DON'T DIE!!"

            Ring Man held her close, and Kalinka continued to cry her eyes out and repeating her last phrase, until fatigue and mental stress overpowered her and she subsided into gentle whimperings.

            A part of Ring Man's psyche clicked into focus, and without realizing he had started to, he began to rock her gently back and forth until the soothing calm overcame her. And eventually, as he sat there pondering matters, he realized that by pure instinct alone, he had fulfilled the boundaries of the Three Rules of Robotics. By instinct alone. No orders, no weights and measures. He had done what felt right…consoling Kalinka…and it had worked.

            Perhaps…perhaps there was hope for him, and all the others yet, the Robot Master mused as he picked Mistress Kalinka Cossack up gently into his arms and took her back into her room.

            He tucked her into her bed and pulled up her covers, making sure that she would not become ill by the slight wafting cold in the air. Once he had made sure that she was secure, he walked out of the room quietly and shut the door with all the grace he held.

            And only then did he bother to have his own thought.

            _Pharaoh Man…you had better return._

_            You appear to be the only bonding agent keeping this place together any more._

            Hazil and J.K. Horn had returned to the medical reploid's office after seeing the rest of their motley crew off. Cleo had opted to not sit around doting; she had gone back down to the hangar bay to finish up some projects she had been ignoring.

            For the two older reploids, old in years and looks, waiting was all they could do. Or all they wanted to.

            Horn sighed and leaned back in his chair, rocking it up off of its legs and pushing himself against the wall. Drily, Hazil clicked his tongue and reached into his desk, pulling up a bottle. "You look like you could use a stiff belt."

            Horn looked down at the bottle, then flipped his blue blockers into his hair, letting his robotic optic focus in on it calmly. He looked up at Hazil and rolled his good eye. "Of what? Air?"

            Hazil blinked a few times, then looked down at the eight year old scotch.

            Empty.

            "Damn." Hazil cursed under his breath, letting another arm down into the drawer.

            He pulled up another empty. He swore again and continued to dig, while Horn watched with interest.

            By the time he emptied out his desk drawer, there were ten empty scotch bottles and two half full ones sitting on his desk. "Finally." He sighed in relief, pushing one of the partially filled bottles over to Horn.

            Slowly, Horn picked up the bottle and stared at it, then the pile of empties, and finally Hazil. "Have a bit of a drinking problem??"

            "HELL no." Hazil snorted, eyes narrowing. He opened up his bottle and downed the contents in one smooth, continuous gulp. "I don't have a drinking problem. I have a reality problem."

            "Doesn't that affect your job performance any?"

            "One of the glories of being a reploid, doc." Hazil chuckled. "Takes at least two full bottles to make you go tipsy."

            "So why would you drink this much?" Horn asked, taking a small swig of his own and wincing as it went down. "Damn…strong stuff."

            "Compared to your usual tropical drinks, I'd imagine so. Straight scotch can do that." Hazil replied, waving a hand flippantly in the air. He settled back into his seat and held the now empty bottle between his hands. "But why do I drink?" Hazil shut his eyes. "Hell, take a look at where we are."

            "Maverick Hunter Headquarters."

            "Exactly." Hazil confirmed. He shifted himself up into a sitting position and slammed the empty bottle down. "That's why I drink. For more than thirteen years now…and back in the glory days, Cain would do it with me."

            "This place torments you that much??" Horn summarized incredulously.

            "Watching friends die on you for more than a decade, despite your warnings and best efforts…" Hazil mused, his sad eyes staring off into somewhere distant, "…never knowing if you're making a true difference…Looking on as allies become traitor and then enemy, and the world marches on by, not giving a damn about our lives as we fight for theirs…"

            His voice trailed off, and then Hazil sighed. "Small wonder."

            "This place would drive a man to drink." Horn agreed sadly. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "So why then, do you stay?"

            "Why??" Hazil repeated, his eyes gaining a hazy quality about them. "Why would I stay here, where I have nothing but sadness dotted with fleeting moments of joy?"

            The medical reploid put his hands against his chest.

            "It isn't for the free booze, I'll tell you that."

            "So what's the real answer then?"

            "More than likely…loyalty." Hazil finally decided. "Loyalty to my promises, to my friends, and to those here who I actually give a damn about."

            "For 13 years?"

            "Believe it or not, there was a time that I wasn't the CMO of the MHHQ." Hazil replied quietly. "There was a time that I was just a field medic with the RAF…the same unit as Storm and Bolt Eagle."

            "THE Storm Eagle??" Horn interrupted, lifting an eyebrow. "The one who took the Death Rogumer on the march of destruction?"

            "One and the same." Hazil easily stated. "Back in a time before the Maverick Uprisings, before the Maverick Hunters…Storm Eagle was the young protégé of a more powerful avian class animalian reploid by the name of Bolt Eagle. We lost Bolt to the final remnants of the IRA…and in his last moments, Bolt told me to keep the boy safe."

            "The boy? Storm Eagle?"

            "Yes." Hazil tilted back in his seat farther. "Three of us came from British soil when we joined the Maverick Hunters. Spark Mandrill, one of our most skilled engineers and mechanics, Storm Eagle, and me. I went to keep that promise to Bolt. And that was the only reason I went."

            "So why did you stay?"

            "What, after Storm Eagle went Maverick and swore the lot of us off?" Hazil mused, rubbing at his chin. He finally harrumphed. "By then…I'd learned to appreciate another pair of schmucks. No, make it a trio…"

            "I take it this trio you refer to…has managed to stay alive a little longer than most?"

            "Well, one of them took it upon himself to self-destruct for almost no damn good reason at the end of the First Maverick Uprising…he came back at the end of the next, no worse for wear, somehow. But yeah. Overall, I've stuck around here because there's three people in this Godforsaken butcher shop that I still gave a crap about."

            "Sometimes, you strive to make it obvious to me, don't you?" Horn chuckled, pushing his bottle of alcohol across the table and motioning for Hazil to take it. "You're talking about the three mainstays of the MHHQ. Mega Man X, Zero Omega…and Dr. James T. Cain."

            "Yeah." Hazil murmured, reaching for Horn's offered booze. "And now Cain's dead."

            Horn let the pregnant silence give birth before he spoke again. "Which just leaves Mega Man X and Zero."

            "And sometimes, I think even they are beyond my ability to reach anymore." Hazil proclaimed, shutting his eyes. He took a quick swig of the half-empty bottle and sighed. "I put Zero back together once. Not a fun time…so many painstaking things I had to do, just to avoid his control chip making a RAM dump. And Zero's body was a bitch to work with in the first place."

            "Oh?" Horn mused, putting his blue blockers back over his eyes. "How so? Overly technical?"

            "Different." Hazil replied carefully, seemingly having to select the word with deep care. "None of Zero's parts were factory made at all. It was like whoever had made Zero did it with customized parts…from scratch…at such a level of detail that wherever the Crimson Hunter was constructed was a place with plenty of robotic engineering equipment."

            "Right. And just how many places with that level of constructive technology that are NOT reploid production factories exist?"

            "None…last time I checked." Hazil muttered. "And I've been looking for more than a decade." He finished off the last of his offices' liquor and put the bottle with the others. "There was something else about it. It wasn't just the fact that everything about Zero's systems were custom-drawn and cast, that he had no identifying codes from any factory or facility…not even an owner designation."

            "Zero is an unknown??"

            "That's the BEST thing you can say about him." Hazil grumbled slowly. "But you haven't heard the most puzzling thing about him."

            "Oh? Just what about Zero separates him so dramatically from the rest of us?"

            "All reploids stem from the schematics of Cancer…the first reploid that Cain built with X's help. Because of that, there's always that traditional element of design that despite a reploid's form, designation, sex, or animalian traits that every reploid holds."

            Hazil paused, then put his head into his hands. "But when I was repairing Zero, when I helped him muddle up various things that led to his eventual revival…I noticed something in his design. He doesn't HAVE that added touch of Cain's mechanics in him. I was confused at first, so I went into Cain and demanded to see X's original schematics…the ones that Light made."

            "And?"

            "I drew up the computerized schematic I had constructed of Zero's systems, then cross-referenced them with that of Mega Man X." Hazil's gray eyes went darker. "And there my artificial heart nearly stopped cold. Because I couldn't believe what I had seen."

            Horn's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't speak, but a part of his spirit knew what Hazil was about to say. And it frightened him.

            "If you took off the external armor…removed all their outer features and then examined just the wiring, the underlying structure, and everything about them that makes them tick…"

            "Horn, you would find that they are a 98% match." Hazil finished. "They look different, and there's some slight differences…but it was like whoever made Zero did it using the original schematics that were done by LIGHT."

            "My word…" Horn murmured. "That…that is most definitely…"

            "I know." Hazil interrupted coldly. "God, I know."

            "Were X's original schematics ever made public?"

            "Not really…nobody could ever make sense of them." Hazil mulled. "So much of X's internal workings are still a mystery to even me…Light was a genius TWO centuries ahead of his time."

            "And yet somebody, utilizing X's original schematics…managed to create Zero, who by your own statements is so similar to X that the Crimson Hunter defies most explanation as well??"

            "Yeah." Hazil grunted. He smiled a bit at his next statement. "That's probably what made my hair go gray."

            Of course, Hazil kept one thing to himself, one thing that he didn't think Horn would be able to handle.

            _He'd probably scream bloody murder if I told him Zero is the final bastard child of Wily's madness._

            "I can't do anything for the two of them anymore." Hazil decided. "I've got nothing left. For anyone." Hazil stood up suddenly and looked around the office. "I've been trapped within these same walls…been haunted and tormented by the ghosts of those who have died because I could not save them, day in and day out…Drinking myself to an early death because it's the only way I can dull the pain…"

            His voice trailed off, and Hazil slumped back into his seat.

            "Maybe that's why I decided I was going to get out of here."

            "Eh? What do you mean?"

            "I sent in my resignation recently." Hazil elaborated slowly. "I'm getting out of here. There's just…just too many bad memories in this place for me anymore."

            There was a dull pain that shone in Hazil's eyes then. A pain that Horn could see all too clearly, and one that made him hurt. But Hazil's statement egged on an obvious question;

            "So what were you planning on doing once you left the Hunters?"

            Dolefully, Hazil leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling again.

            Fifteen seconds. Thirty seconds. And only then did the medical reploid offer a response.

            "I don't know."

            Signas sat in the command chair of the MHHQ's War Room, watching the massive overhead monitor with pursed lips. He sat rigidly against the back of the seat, his arms draped over the armrests with fingers twitching nervously.

            _If they carry out the plan EXACTLY as I told them to…this will work. But if this fails…no, don't even consider that. Failure is not an option._

            Signas had been said to be devoid of emotions thanks to the GDC's rigid training of pure logic and strategy and dialogue. Perhaps, the processing reploid surmised, that was his biggest barrier to his arriving at the Maverick Hunters.

            Not just the fact he was shipped here from the GDC…with no chance for the Hunters to make an argument or rebuttal.

            Not just the crushing blow that James Cain was dead…and somebody completely different, unknown, and untrusted was taking his place.

            It was that Signas showed no emotions, did not allow himself to. He acted so alien to them, that in this place especially, he could never be accepted.

            And slowly, Signas said to himself while trying not to shudder, he would learn about these 'emotions' that the Maverick Hunters clung to so fiercely. Even if it took him more than three decades.

            He blinked back into reality and refocused his thoughts, staring up at the monitor with all of his attention. The GDC spy satellite had been slowed down enough to provide a continuous feed of video without breaking up. That, combined with overlaying IF/F markers of green and red and the audio feeds made for interesting viewing.

            If one considered watching reploids dying at each others' hands interesting.

            One of the Mavericks…Cumulus Bull from the sound of it, was dead, taken down by some very accurate firepower. The other five Generals, and Sigma, and that little lady Maverick…Iris, wasn't that her name?...were holding up rather well, however…

            The Maverick Hunters had taken a few more hits, though. Their numbers, somewhere around 40 to 50 elites at the start had dwindled down to the upper 20's. Which meant that perhaps the only saving measure that the Maverick Hunters held against their enemies was the surprise cavalry charging to the battle on Landchasers. If all went well, Signas surmised, the Mavericks would be caught off guard and suppressed…if not destroyed, at least badly humiliated.

            Signas would take his victories where they came.

            "The Landchaser party reports eighty seconds to contact." One of the room's monitor Techs called up. Signas perked his head over.

            "Any indications that Sigma and his crew have noticed them coming?"

            "None. The Mavericks seem entirely engrossed in the battle, from what I can detect of the comm scramble." Another Tech replied quickly.

            Signas exhaled a deep breath and relaxed in his chair then, a measure that made every person in the room blink their eyes in confusion a few times and then turn around to stare at their new General incredulously.

            Signas nodded his head and stared back up at the monitor, brow lined with worry.

            "Continue operations."

            As the Techs turned back to their stations, they could not shake off the feeling that somehow…

            If for only a moment, Doctor Cain had returned to them.

            X and Kazok's battle had taken them a fair distance from the heart of the conflagration…which was probably for the best, considering the firepower that the two were leveling at one another.

Mega Man X ducked the blistering supershot that Kazok had leveled at him, then dashed away from the Maverick's followup charge. Turning about in mid-dash, he leveled his Buster using his right hand for support and fired.

            Kazok's head flipped about, seeing the shot coming even before X had released the firing trigger. The Maverick's eyes flared for a brief moment in rage before Kazok took to the skies again, dust exploding away from him as his locus of anti-gravitational forces swelled for a small moment.

            "Blast you Mavericks…BLAST YOU ALL!!!" X screamed, firing again and again with rapid fire shots of plasma that stitched the skies. Kazok narrowly avoided the hailstorm trailing him about in the skies, then roared and dropped his Buster groundwards at X.

            The Blue Bomber ceased firing as soon as he realized what Kazok was doing. "Oh, shit…" Kazok's eyes flickered again, and he disengaged the safeties on his Buster.

            X scrambled to move away from the blast crater, but found it to be little use when the overcharged supershot soared downwards, screaming from the intensity of the stored plasma. The blast dispersed angrily, throwing X like a rag doll by the concussion wave while baking him at the same time.

            **Internal operations energy at 90%.**

            And that had been a MISS, X chided himself angrily. He tried to pick himself up, but only succeeded in coming to his knees before a familiar set of black hovering crystals appeared around his body and froze him into place. And then they pushed on him with devastating g force. X gasped for air and tried to strain against his prison, but to no avail.

            The gravicrystals turned X around so he could face a grim Kazok Gravor, walking towards X with his Buster hanging by his side. As the Maverick drew nearer, his mouth curled into a frowning sneer.

            "Pathetic." He uttered. "You're Mega Man X. You're supposed to have shut down Sigma time and time again. So explain to me now why you find yourself being outmatched at every turn. Are you THAT dependent on your armors, X? You, the progenitor of our entire race…are you that weak without the awesome power they grant?"

            "Damn you…Kazok…" X grunted, barely managing to stay on one knee without collapsing onto the ground.

            "Oh, stop swearing at me and just give me a straight answer." Kazok growled. "I want to know…just why you're so damned GOOD at destroying all the servants of Sigma, all the people who follow him because they're given no choice in the matter, but you can't destroy Sigma himself." Kazok jammed his hand inside of the field and clenched his fingers tightly around X's neck. X coughed, straining against the chokehold that began to prevent his nourishing blood from reaching his needy brain.

            Kazok picked up X like a rag doll and stared into those wide blue green eyes.

            "Maybe you don't want to kill him…maybe that's it." Kazok said quietly, releasing his hold on X's neck. X sucked in a gasping breath, feeling relief as his brain felt a new rush of power to it. Kazok lifted up a finger and two crystals returned to him, giving him enough power to lift both himself and X up into the air. X could do little, dangling underneath Kazok's control. But he could speak.

            "What…are you doing…"

            "Questioning." Kazok replied shortly. "Why it is that me and the others have been cursed to this existence…why we're forced to serve Sigma because you didn't destroy him out to begin with."

            The Maverick's eyes narrowed. "It's all your fault, X. Cumulus Bull is dead…DEAD, thanks to you and your Hunters. Had he NOT been torn away from URFAWP by Sigma's long-reaching claws, he would still be alive…still be laughing and remaining who he always was. But you took that from him because you let Sigma live." Kazok reached across and flattened X with a right cross, leaving the Hunter to take the hit as he remained suspended and unable to defend himself. "DEAD!! He's dead, X. Soon, chances are the REST of us will be dead. But HE'LL still be alive, won't he?" Kazok grabbed X's head between his hands and began to squeeze, baring his teeth and showing now his full malice, untainted by the Virus. "Everything I did…all those deplorable acts…done in his name, under his power and influence…I remember every last one of them." He squeezed harder, drawing an extended cry from X. "To remember everything you did while under the Virus…THAT is Hell, Mega Man X. Perhaps some day you will get to experience it. Experience being helpless as you are directed by the dark thoughts of another. To watch your friends be destroyed while they struggle under the same influence of the force you are restrained by, to be able to do NOTHING."

            **Warning. Internal operations energy at 87%. Heavy pressure exerted upon cranial region. Helmet showing multiple stress fractures. Cease source of pressure immediately. Cranial collapse imminent.**

            Thankfully, Kazok pulled his hands back and shook his head.

            "The devil made me do it…but you allowed him to live in the first place." Kazok growled. "You have much to answer for, X. Not as much as Sigma…but enough that you, like me, need to make penance."

            Suddenly, the gravicrystals keeping X in place shut themselves off, dropping the Blue Bomber to the ground gasping for air and struggling to regain control of his motor functions.

            The gravicrystals returned to Kazok, easily settling into a rotational arc about his body. The Maverick folded his arms and tsked.

            "Get up." He said forcefully. "Get up and prove me right for once. Show me that the only reason you were able to defeat Sigma all those times before was that it was pure luck."

            X put a hand onto his knee, then slowly rose to his feet and stared Kazok down. Blue green eyes that once held pain shone with new resolve and a sense of confusion and mistrust.

            Kazok primed his Buster again and pointed it at X, not bothering to aim or support it. "This fight between us has one outcome; one of us shall triumph over the other, one of us will go on to face Sigma."

            X narrowed his eyes. "Why would a Maverick General want to destroy his leader?"

            "You haven't been listening to a DAMN thing I've just gotten done saying, have you??" Kazok spat back, eyes flaring out angrily. He hovered a few inches above the ground, his gravicrystals spinning wildly now. "Pity. Not only is the great Mega Man X incapable of shutting down a minor threat without his super armors, but he's stupid to boot. You think you're the only faction on this planet that has something to gain by seeing Sigma in his last grave?!" Kazok charged towards X, a screaming missile carried by gravitic force.

            X fired a level 2 shot at Kazok, forcing the Maverick to roll out of the way…too late did Kazok realize that X had been waiting for that. Kazok had no time to respond as X made a furious dash jump into the air and scissor-kicked him in the ribs.

            Kazok doubled over, losing control over his gravitational field for a brief instant. X dropped back down to the ground, holding his left arm's Buster beside him. The air filled with an incessant whine, the unmistakable noise of a Buster going to maximum charge.

            Kazok brought himself back up to his feet and bared his teeth at X.

            "The sins of all must be paid in full…" He muttered, just loud enough for X to hear. Flinging his unused hand to the sky, Kazok charged towards X again. "LET MY ATONEMENT BEGIN WITH YOU!!"

            Zero pulled himself up from the ranks of the Hunters who had been cut down by Cumulus Bull before Guernica had made his lucky shot.

            There had been no hope for them. No honorable death. For all they were capable of, all the skill and training they held, they were transformed, in a moment of serendipity, into cannon fodder.

            And for a Maverick Hunter…that was unforgivable.

            The Crimson Hunter turned around, clenching one fist up and keeping his left hand dangling at his waist, twitching as his digits called out to wrap around the hilt of his saber. They wanted blood…Zero swore they would get it.

            His vision began to go blurry as his rage began to get the better of him, and a startled Zero shook his head to negate the effects. As if sighing resignedly, his systems reverted to normal, shunting away the adrenaline he had become so accustomed to using.

            At the same time, Burst Scarab was soaring above everything, dropping high explosives this way and that in his mindless quest to end the Hunter's existence. He looked down and saw Dolph Reach taking good care of himself…whatever got through his opening palm strike didn't last long against Dash Blade and Shell Butane. So for the moment, he had the opportunity to make a free reign of the environment.

            X and Kazok were locked in heated combat, the likes of which Burst hadn't seen come from his leader in a very long time. Scratch that.

            Sigma and Iris were taking care of themselves just fine…and of course, Burst remembered with a renewed plume of anger, those Hunter bastards had taken down Cumulus Bull.

            There was one Hunter that stood out amongst all of them, one Hunter that caught Burst Scarab's attention and kept it enthralled with his majestic pissed-off glare of death. And, Burst Scarab thought with a sinister smile as he summoned out one of his larger munitions…

            That one Hunter couldn't have been a better target.

            Zero had barely moved a few meters forward before he heard a very sharp whistle coming down from above.

            Narrowing his eyes in recognition of the sound, Zero didn't even bother to look up. He merely slammed on his dash thrusters and boosted himself forward as fast as he could.

            A very wise move, considering that only a moment later, the ground where he had stood exploded with a horrendous explosion, the flames backing the Hunter's back and the concussion wave sending Zero flying facefirst on his course.

            But unlike in traditional movies, Zero didn't land on his face or even stumble. He merely righted himself in midair and came down with his beam saber drawn and him kneeling on one leg for added support. Now glowering with rage, Zero lifted his head up to see the flitting Burst Scarab flutter downwards, his wings filling the air with a definitive bass hum.

            The Maverick grinned, wiggling his antennae for a moment before he laughed.

            "Even Zero goes running when the bombs start to fall…what's this world coming to??"

            "An end to you and your kind." Zero shot back, standing up and holding his saber in a two handed defensive pose. Burst tsked and leveled an arm at the Crimson Hunter, unleashing a rocket. Zero easily dash-jumped over it and came at Burst with his saber held high for the killing stroke.

            Burst tsked again and shot up into the air with more speed than somebody of his body type should have had, leaving Zero to swing at open air. Hovering safely above the range of Zero's saber, the Maverick put a hand on his hip and shook the other one back and forth at Zero in a disapproving gesture.

            "No no no, Zero. You don't get to play piñata today, I'm afraid. See, I get to pick the game, and today I think that it's time to play BATTLESHIP!!"

            Zero swore underneath his breath, backflipping away from yet another explosion. Burst cackled in glee again, so happy to have the famous Crimson Hunter on the ropes and running like a scared little puppy from the lawnmower.

            Zero did not like people throwing high explosives at him. He did not like people attacking him to fulfill some issue with their machismo or self-image. And he especially did not like Mavericks. Burst Scarab had three strikes against him, which to Zero meant that this monstrosity was going down…HARD.

            Zero jumped to the side to avoid another concussion blast gone awry, then tightened his saber's grip. Burst chuckled a bit and flung his arm downwards at Zero, pausing only long enough to fire a missile too many sizes too large for comfort. Its engine ignited and then screamed downwards, willing and able to blow the Crimson Hunter apart.

            "Say hi to Hell for me!!" Burst called down at his opponent.

            Zero jumped off of the ground, aiming himself for the Maverick flying in the air, but putting himself in the direct path of the missile. Burst's eyes widened in anticipation of that one moment, and his smile grew bigger.

            But then, as if Zero was standing on solid ground, he did another jump…an impossibility, Burst rationalized as the shock washed over him. Swiftly, Zero frontflipped and landed on the casing of the missile, stabilizing his footing and staring up at the Maverick with disgust and hatred in his eyes.

            _Impossible…he can't jump in midair like that…he can't balance on a missile like that, he just can't!!_

            And yet, Burst realized, Zero had.

            Zero's saber flared out, its brilliant green expanding violently into a blade of fiery red plasma. In a sweeping, rising strike, Zero rose up towards Burst Scarab, seeming to move without effort as that deadly blade drew nearer and nearer.

            The Maverick screamed in fear and tried to dodge to the side. His efforts did some good, but not enough…For all his speed that he put into the maneuver, one wing was hopelessly severed off, leaving a badly cauterized stump of a wing behind that continued to vibrate, even after the nerve sensation impulse from Burst's mind faded.

            The Maverick screamed again, this time in mind numbing pain as he instinctively reached an arm out to try and protect and cradle his injured stump of a wing. The carapace and high durability see-through wing fell to the ground with a resounding thud, further proof to the shocked Maverick that Zero was just as deadly as rumor had held.

            Burst Scarab spiraled out of control into the ground, his sole remaining wing unable to keep up with the demands and succeeding only in corkscrewing his fall. The impact was sudden and devastating, snapping one of Burst's arms into a useless state and leaving him defeated and grounded. Zero on the other hand, landed solidly and scanned the area for any of Burst's Maverick comrades that might decide to rush to his aid. All of them, apparently, were too preoccupied with other forces to notice Burst's plight.

            More so was the pity for the fool Maverick.

            Zero glared down at him as he approached, paying no heed to Burst's strained groans.

            Slowly, Burst turned himself over with his only remaining good hand and stared up at Zero as the Crimson Hunter approached. His eyes went glassy, and he found enough energy to extend an arm out and balance himself for one last shot.

            One final rocket blasted itself free from Burst Scarab's arsenal, screaming through the air on its dead accurate course to blowing Zero's head apart like a grape.

            Zero merely craned his head to the side, frowning darkly for a moment as it soared on past his ear and exploded harmlessly in the sky. He then reverted back to his normal posture and walked on until he stood above Burst Scarab.

            The Maverick shivered, either from his wounds or in terror, or perhaps even both. But he did shiver.

            "You deserve to die for all that you have done." Zero spat out, holding his blade hand steady.

            Burst looked up and blinked his eyes sadly.

            "And what will you do when you meet a Maverick that does not fall under that category of punishment?"

            Zero froze for only an instant…an instant where his eyes flitted up and he saw Iris, struggling not that far off to stay alive.

            Grinding his teeth together and feeling his fist tighten in anticipation, Zero gave into the scream his body made.

            One single saber slash later, Burst Scarab's insectoid head rolled away from the body and came to a slow halt.

            Zero turned away from the body and shut his saber off, jamming it back into his recharge port with a fierce amount of energy.

            _What will you do, Zero…_

"Shut up." He murmured. He shook his head to clear it, then took off.

            There were other Mavericks to be dealt with.

            Dash Blade looked up for a moment, staring up from the gasping remains of another foolish Hunter who had gotten too close. She knocked the beam saber out of her newest victim's hands, then slashed him away with a final vicious cut.

            Her ears perked up in dismay as she heard a cry not far off. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw an enraged Zero living up to his name…severing away one of Burst Scarab's wings with a violent saber thrust and forcing her comrade to plummet to the ground like a misdirected stone.

            She found herself growing rigid as she watched the Crimson Hunter end Burst's life with a single, coldblooded saber slash.

            And then she felt her vision grow blurry…

            Not even the impact of a plasma bullet in the small of her back fazed that deadlock she held on Zero as he stood there, shutting his saber off and looking around with those empty eyes.

            "ZEEEROOOO!!!" She screamed out unconsciously, throwing her head back and letting the scream carry on in a powerful feral yelp.

            Another plasma blast, this one a larger 'green sizzler' tore by the side of her face. Dash paid it no heed, leaping forth and retracting her claws, bounding on all fours.

            Through the packs of surprised and on guard Hunters she plowed, jumping up into the air and running over them, stepping on shoulders and heads and lifted arms raised for protection from the crazed Feraloid. Shots were fired, both plasma and magweaponry, but none succeeded in hitting. Dash moved with a speed she had rarely ever called upon, her thrusters bellowing angry hydrogen flames as she leapt up even higher than before and flung herself towards Zero, corkscrewing to avoid the crossfire from below.

            She extended her plasma dagger claws and curled in tighter, like a ball ready to explode on impact. She focused on Zero.

            And saw only red.

            Zero had heard the scream long before he had seen Dash barreling towards him, flying on the wings of Hell itself. But that had served only to pique the Crimson Hunter's alertness, force him to look around with wary eyes for where the threat was emanating.

            And he found it in a blistering ball of fur, gnashing teeth, and curled limbs that exploded outwards. Nearly caught off guard, Zero barely had enough time to draw his saber back into life and put up a slight defensive stance. Even then, she moved with so much momentum that Zero could scarcely put up any sort of defense. He succeeded only in not getting himself run through with her opening charge, suffering instead the ignoble fate of being knocked flat on his back from the impact.

            Dash frontflipped after the initial blow, holding her arms out to her sides and skidding to a halt with her dash boots, tail flickering back and forth angrily. Quickly she turned about and flashed her fangs at the Crimson Hunter, pouncing towards where he lay on the ground, still stunned from her initial strike. Zero's green eyes flashed in alarm, and he ignited his dash boots, gritting his teeth as the ground beneath him scraped his back armor from the sudden friction. Still, it worked…Dash sailed harmlessly overhead and landed, and Zero escaped her second strike, embedding his boots into the ground at the end of his skid and forcing himself into a triple backflip that strained and possibly might have snapped his spine…were he human. Thankfully, the Crimson Hunter reminded himself, he was NOT.

            Still, his back hurt like Hell now.

            "What's the matter, Kitty?" Zero snapped, resuming his double handed saber grip. "Somebody pull your tail the wrong way?"

            "Bastard." Dash spat out, crouching low to the ground for another charge. Zero harrumphed a bit and shook his head. _Maverick, you don't know how right that statement is._

            Dash came at him with fur flying, swinging blindly with her claws in vicious wide arcs that always supplemented each other, giving no opportunity for a counterstrike. Zero's saber flared out in defense, blocking strike after strike with precision that came partly from instinct, but mostly from years of Zero fighting for his life. She was still as feral as the first time Zero had met her, and the only advantage he held here was that they were on open terrain, where he had more room to defend and maneuver. Definitely more appealing than when they had first tangled; a rotating stairway in Karashita Tower. Definitely less dangerous to his physical health. Here he might actually stand a chance.

            Slowly, Zero's rage began to build, Dash's charge began to wear off. Even she couldn't keep up this pace for long, and her slashes began to reflect that, losing momentum, speed, ferocity. Zero's own strength surged up through him, and he swung back, forcing her doublehanded strike away from him and back towards her.

            No other Hunter surrounding them moved to intervene with the fight. Not a one of them was that stupid to stop the sparks from flying…and were they ever.

            Now Zero turned the battle around, saber swinging fiercely in front of him. Dash, now on the defensive, struggled to stop the strikes…she paid little attention to the fact Zero had switched his attack pose, and was now only using one hand to wield his weapon.

            Zero's other hand snaked its way down to his waist, and the row of Rakuhouha plasmic explosives he still carried into battle, 2 years after the Fourth Maverick Uprising. They represented a fierce portion of his arsenal, and the very thing that had put Dash out of commission the last time they fought.

            He hoped that this time would be no different.

            In a sudden flare, Zero's saber went from green to a hot pink, growing shorter and more curved, almost like a scimitar. Deftly, his free hand pulled a Rakuhouha pellet out and lobbed it over Dash's head to the ground behind her. The rest of him centered around his 'Shippuga' blade, a shorter, curved…but far more powerful version of his normal saber strike. Gripping the hilt with both hands, Zero let out a loud angry scream and ignited his dash thrusters, forcing himself into Dash's face.

            Plasma claws met angry Shippuga blade, sparks of errant plasma scorching out in all directions, threatening to catch hair and fur on fire. Dash's eyes went wide as she stared into Zero's eyes…seeing a frightening hollow emptiness become bestowed upon them, noting the utter lack of sympathy in the rest of his face become apparent.

            And then his Shippuga blade, with a cutting power only the defeat of Slash Beast 2 years before had granted, began to win out over her claws.

            Dash strained and grunted, watching in alarm as her energy gauges for the plasma claws began to drop to dangerously low levels, sacrificing their longevity in an effort to overcome the astounding effects of Zero's blade at more than full strength.

            She couldn't win out over this force, the Maverick realized. Zero's blade would win out long before hers…and once her claws became extinguished, that Shippuga saber would cut through empty air and slice her in half as easily as she might cut up a kiwi fruit.

            With an angry snarl, she sacrificed a few more precious ergs of her plasma claws' power to push him to the side, then backflipped up and away from him to escape whatever followup slash he might muster.

            And yet Zero's saber lost its hot pink glow, returned to normal green. His stance relaxed, his posture became one of waiting. He watched Dash backflip with interest…too much, the Maverick thought as a cold chill ran down her back.

            She extinguished her plasma claws and extended her TitaniTefloAlloy ones, paying little attention to the weapons change as she began to look around for a trap. Zero's stance made things all too apparent that there was one…

            And there it lay, in the form of a tiny pellet beginning to flash angrier and angrier beneath her.

            As if electricity had arced through her spine, Dash suddenly realized what it was. The same damned plasmic explosive Zero had used on her in Karashita Tower…the one that nearly killed her.

            Hunter observers with enough spare time on their hands to be looking about would say later in their mission debriefings that if time was capable of slowing down, it had then at that moment.

            Dash straightened her posture and kicked her dash thrusters into motion, forcing her boots groundwards as she unleashed maximum force from the miniature rechargeable hydrogen rockets embedded in her feet. With the safeties disengaged, her downwards force was soon overcome and she was launched five meters up into the air, an easily covered distance.

            The Rakuhouha pellet exploded at that moment, unleashing the powerful plasmic storm within out into the world, a massive peacock feather shaped wave of doom that flung itself in all directions. Zero barely managed to dodge the explosion himself, and the Hunters around scrambled to evade the all too deadly blast.

            But three shots went skyward enough to pose a threat to Dash. The first one missed her, skimming by the side of her leg with a whistling noise. The second one blasted through her shoulder, causing the Maverick to tense up in sudden pain as connections to her right arm were severed from the impact that carried through her. The third, by sheer determination and a sudden rush of power from the anger her wound instilled, she deflected away from herself, putting all the strength of her body behind the powerful TitaniTefloAlloy claw swipe of her left arm. The powerful plasma fought back for a moment, then finally sighed and let itself be blunted away from its intended target…down towards the ground where the Crimson Hunter stood.

            Zero saw the blast incoming towards him, but made no outwards sign of worry. He merely gripped his saber with both hands and concentrated, forcing the blade to shimmer from its shade of bright green to a dull, almost blackish purple.

            The Rakuhouha blast, brilliant blue and bordering on white came closer and closer. And finally, Zero swung up his saber as if aiming at a lobbed baseball, plasmic blast hitting angry deflective blade.

            With a mere ripple of his true strength, Zero blunted Dash's ricochet up away from the both of them into the sky, where it flew on for a long time until finally dissipating into nothingness.

            Dash landed, standing with her left side pointed towards Zero. Her breathing was shallow and labored, her eyes fighting off the glassy texture that the Crimson Hunter had seen on so many of his victims. Her good arm…her left…came up to protect the gaping wound through her shoulder, thanks to the blast that had pierced both armor and internal body structure. Her right arm hung limply beside her, its functionality greatly decreased, it not immobilized fully. And still she stubbornly kept her claws out.

            Zero pointed his beam saber at her horizontally, letting its natural green shade restore itself. He blinked only once.

            "You will die soon."

            "Not soon enough for your liking." Dash snarled back, the retort not as strong in voice as previous ones. She heard it and so did he.

            She was badly hurt.

            It was at that moment a new sound made its appearance around them, one that made the Hunters brighten up and fight with new vigor, and made the Mavericks shift their heads about in surprise and sudden shock.

            The Landchaser cavalry had arrived.

            The interior of Ice Beacon looked like the engineer had watched too much Star Wars movies in his time…the whole place stank of the ice covered hallways of the fantasy world Hoth.

            Bastion drew in his wings and shook his head back, checking his beam staff and disconnecting the two pieces into their separate beam sabers.

            "There's barely enough room to run through here, much less fight openly." He commented.

            "Before I forget, thanks for pulling in those wings." Willow grumbled, rubbing at her head. "I didn't really enjoy getting decked in the back o' me head with 'em that much."

            "I didn't think you would." Bastion shrugged apologetically. He turned and looked to Bristol. "Which way is it?"

            "The shield emitter?" Bristol responded questioningly. Bastion nodded his head once. "Knowing MI9, deep within this place, well defended, and not easily accessible."

            "Well then…I'll feel right at home." Bastion smirked. "Before I joined up with the Hunters…"

            "The Jihad. I remember, dear." Bristol sighed, shaking her head. "Keep focused on current events…we don't have enough time not to."

            **_15 minutes until Ice Beacon signal transfer…All available Enhanceds to interior basin. Intruder alert. Intruder alert. 15 minutes until Ice Bea…_**

            Willow looked up at the ceiling darkly. "DAMN." She kicked her dash thrusters on and swerved around Bastion, hopping off the side of the wall for a moment. "We don't have TIME!!!"

            Bristol too, shuddered. This was cutting it awfully close…

            They ran down deeper into the passage from the surface elevator until they reached a large 'hall' area, with exits poring in all directions.

            Willow scoffed. "Standard MI9 design, all right. Central node with off-links."

            "So which way is the right way?" Bastion asked.

            "The one that has the most shit that can kill you." Willow shot back to Bastion. A large blast of ionic disruption energy tore from one hallway to their left, singing the Irish Banshee's hair. Willow swore again and rolled to the side to avoid another paralyzing blast. "THAT WAY!!!" She announced defiantly, bringing up her left arm gauntlet and firing a round. The plasmic explosive shot on, whistling fiercely and exploding on impact with the anti-reploid defense cannon that hung from the ceiling of the hallway. "Three shots left…"

            "Let's hope you use the rest wisely." Bastion announced darkly. Bristol pushed down the nagging feelings of hopelessness away and charged on, leaving Bastion and Willow to follow behind her, trying their hardest to keep up with the pace she herself set.

            The trip was one of silence interrupted only by further announcements concerning Ice Beacon's ETL…Estimated Time to signal Launch. Not the greatest of environments to encounter, and one that left all three worried.

            With no map to guide their way, they ran on blind instinct and pressured fury. And somehow that instinct served them well.

            The hallway broadened out eventually, leading into a massive room with an exit on the other side. To all purposes, another entertainment area or gathering center, due to the overhead television equipment.

            But not an easy escape…for a figure stood with one foot out of the shadows and the rest inside, wearing a dark cloak that disguised the entire figure.

            The three infiltrators stopped short, looking at their opponent with wary eyes.

            "I'm sorry, but I just can't allow you three to go any farther." The figure spoke in a garbled, computer generated voice. Willow frowned.

            "What's the matter, Enhanced? Can't even use your own voice, you have to hide behind a scrambler?"

            Silence for a moment, and then the sound of a device being shut off…the scrambler the Enhanced human had been using to mask his true voice.

            And then a low chuckle.

            "Well…I thought to try and keep my true identity secret for a little while."

            Bastion stood there, still not knowing who the person was. But Bristol's eyes opened in slight recognition…and Willow's positively flared with the fury that the masculine tone ignited in her.

            "YOU." Willow spat out. "Still alive, I see…"

            "Geoffrey and Tim died at your hands, Willow. I merely come to…collect equal payment." The figure announced, stepping forth and dropping his hood.

            His dark features, his disheveled hair, and that toothy smirk…

            "Jowers." Willow growled.

            "It's nice to see you too, Willow…" Jowers said placidly. "However, in this day and age memories mean nothing. Not as far as you and your little lamb Bristol are concerned. You've caused us much grief in your time since you escaped…In hindsight, we should not have left you there in New Denver with the Mavericks. You obviously escaped unscathed."

            "Now that my memory is returned, I regret ever making you into what you are now." Bristol snapped. "What you and the rest of MI9 are trying to do here…"

            "Oh, I imagine we could go throwing semantics and idealism at each other from here until the end of time." Jowers yawned. "But in the end, I don't think that'll solve anything. MI9 doesn't want to negotiate over a conference table. Ice Beacon is indicative of that."

            "You want us dead."

            "Yeeeep."

            "And obviously, we still want to live." Bastion called back. Jowers turned away from Willow and scrutinized the Commander of the 21st 'Lightning Strike' Unit.

            "Do I know you?"

            "Doubtful. I don't know you."

            "Then stay out of matters that don't concern you." Jowers snapped. Bastion narrowed his eyes.

            "You're trying to kill me, correct?"

            "Yes…"

            "Well then, this whole thing DOES concern me. And every other reploid on this planet…though most remain oblivious to this."

            "As MI9 planned it." Jowers shrugged. "However, THESE two reploids here are both thorn in side and grain in gear for our plans. They have been since they realized what we were truly up to."

            **_14 minutes until Ice Beacon signal transfer…_**

            Willow's green eyes flared. "Bristol."

            "Yes?"

            "Take Bastion and MOVE. I'll deal with Jowers."

            The Enhanced human brandished his beam weapon and ignited it to full life, holding it in an easy two handed grip. The reploids facing him were all stunned to see that the Enhanced was wielding a massively wicked beam scythe, the blade wrapped around a dangerous enough looking edge of TitaniTefloAlloy.

            "I'm afraid this little meeting is for all three of you." He said lowly. "Honestly, I can't let two of you push on while one of you sticks around to spar."

            Willow pulled out her beam whip and ignited the lengthy chain, reaching her free hand up and detaching her flowing blue cape. The weighted fabric dropped to the floor of the room with a muffled thud, allowing the Irish Banshee full movement and revealing her body armor in its entirety.

            With a scream of rage and desperation, Willow threw herself across the room, dash thrusters burning away. Jowers lifted an eyebrow, but reluctantly put up his beam scythe and blocked her charge.

            Willow held her beam whip by its base and midlength along the chain, keeping a length under tension…that was the section pushed up against Jowers' own weapon.

            "GET GOING!!" Willow barked, straining against Jowers, trying her damndest not to let him slide his blade down her weapon and slice off her fingers.

            Bristol and Bastion looked at each other for a moment, then nodded and ran around the two struggling fighters and deeper into Ice Beacon.

            Jowers grunted against the force being pushed on him and smiled, flicking the bottom half of his blade underneath Willow's chain. The Irish Banshee jumped back from the swipe and held her beam whip at the ready.

            Both took a few testing breaths after that last exertion, and then Jowers chuckled.

            "Playful little bitch, aren't you?"

            "Oh, you figured that out long ago." She growled, shifting her right leg's position about and letting the beam whip trail along her body. "I just think you forgot how demanding I can be about this."

            "Combat with you?" Jowers chuckled again. "You were quite adamant about seeing your two friends there getting past me."

            "I just wanted ye all to myself, lad." Willow replied, her voice smooth as silk, but her face hard as the Antarctic ice above their heads. "Mine to fight, mine to judge...mine to kill."

            "You certainly do have a high enough belief about your skills there." Jowers shot back, charging at her with a double slash from his reaper's weapon. "And here I thought egocentrism was dead."

            "You could never deface me or my will." Willow snapped, deftly flipping the plasma smothered chain about and deflecting both strikes. Jowers decided to chance another blow, but Willow was quick to defend, ensnaring his stabbing blade with the length of her chain and dragging him in close.

            Snarling, he shot out with his free hand to free his weapon and slap her in the face. Willow responded with her own hand. Now he brought his feet into the struggle, and she did hers.

            Willow lost her thumbhold on the plasma activator of her beam whip in the ensuing struggle, then lost her balance as she fell on top of Jowers. His beam scythe was splayed to the side, unable to harm either combatant, and her beam whip, the deadly plasma cut off and leaving TitaniTefloAlloy links, wrapped around them both in a mock lover's embrace.

            Jowers and Willow lay there like that for a few seconds, seconds where the Enhanced human became painfully aware of her gasping breaths and her heaving chest armor touching his own torso. They looked into each other's eyes. Definitely no love or admiration…but a fire between warriors, a passionate lust that bordered on destruction. In that moment, they shared the embrace of darkness and light…eternal opponents, only truly alive in that moment when their fight ensnared them both.

            "Funny…I didn't know you were into bondage." Jowers finally mused, looking up with the most perverse sneer he could muster. Willow's eyes flashed and she leaned in closer…

            Then promptly kneed him in the balls.

            She rolled away from the warrior as Jowers strained to recover from the blow, pulling her chain back and resetting her pose. Jowers struggled to his feet and coughed, shaking his head.

            "Thank God for metallic athletic supporters."

            "I should have destroyed you a long time ago." Willow growled darkly. "For what you did to me, I can never forgive you. For what you did to everyone else, I will punish you!!"

            Willow activated the plasma on her beam whip again and cracked it to the ground with a resounding snap. "It's sick freaks like you that perpetuate the attitudes that kept MI9 alive…"

            Jowers shifted his neck left and right, letting the joints crack loudly in the crisp air.

            "Oh, I love it when you talk dirty…" He said with that same sick grin. Willow bared a row of perfect fanglike teeth, but offering no mirthful smile. Only venom that was well deserved.

            "You perverted son of a bitch…I am not your china doll!!"

            "Oh, you're something all, right…" Jowers mused. "And can you really blame a man for looking??"

            "You never looked with love…because you cannot love."

            "True in one regard…nobody could ever love a mannequin like you, Willow. You're just a reploid. A figure of metal crafted in the image of a human. A plaything. A toy. Meant to be used and discarded. No one could ever love you…nor any other member of your 'species'. From the moment you were created, you existed at humanity's whim. To provide our pleasures…because only we rightfully deserved them."

            "I have a mind. I have a soul." Willow called back shakily, fighting back angry tears that threatened to resurface after so many weeks. "And you cannot deny me that…CANNOT DENY ANY OF US THAT WE DO NOT LIVE!!!"

            "Ice Beacon will prove you wrong, Irish Banshee." Jowers called out calmly, that smile returning. "And when it does, I shall laugh at you. You poor, poor, little broken china doll…a pretty face that no man could ever love. Just an object for lust and the darkest of desires."

            Willow screamed louder than she ever had before, and twice as shrilly. And then she charged at him, moving with fury pent up from years of anger, years of torment.

            And her call carried on throughout every hall, frightening those far away.

            It sounded like the wail of a wounded animal.

            Above the underground structures of Ice Beacon, another battle had ensued long before, refusing to be stopped. The Enhanceds had come as a single force, nearly overwhelming Wycost and his team of four, but somehow they had pulled through.

            An opening blast of Strobe Flash had temporarily blinded and decommissioned the forward line, leaving them vulnerable to Doan and Allegro while Wycost and Pharaoh Man kept the rest at bay with a furious assault from their respective plasma class weapons. The biggest danger that the four tried to avoid was becoming surrounded. If they had at least one direction they could retreat to, then the Enhanceds couldn't overwhelm them with numbers…not an easy task, considering that even after their initial victories, the strike force was outnumbered by a factor of three.

            Wycost and Doan took the battle in silent stride, used to having their lives that close to the breaking point. That of course didn't stop Wycost from unleashing a torrent of brutal New York maledictions every time one of the Enhanced humans got too close for comfort. It might almost seem funny…if their foes didn't have the full capacity to destroy them.

            Allegro found himself in a duel he was hard pressed to win. The Enhanced had partially covered his eyes from the blinding Strobe Flash, and was thus able to see Allegro quite clearly. It was now that Allegro began to see the true potential of these 'Enhanced' humans, a product of Bristol's ingenuity and misguided intentions. The warrior shook his brown hair back and grinned, striking down Allegro's blow and bringing in a counterstrike with ease. Allegro swore underneath his breath, jumping up into the air and splaying out his beam staff with what he hoped was enough force to hold off another swing.

            It was just enough…The Enhanced snapped his own blade up, forcing Allegro off his guard and into a stumbling roll along the ground, ruining the MI9 agent's attack. Allegro felt a surge of fear and adrenaline pump through him, then rolled away from the downwards blow, feeling chips of ice graze his cheek from the blast.

            Allegro fell short however, his roll finishing out only to find the same Enhanced human standing above him. The reploid's eyes went wide as the brown haired male grinned wide and prepared for the finishing blow.

            He never got the chance. Before the MI9 agent could act, an overwhelming blast of suncolored plasmic energy smashed into his back, eating away at the energy shield and then at clothing and flesh. The human let out an agonizing scream, then fell dead from the shock and the force of his spine being atomized half away. Allegro's eyes flitted to the side, where a grimfaced Pharaoh Man landed beside him and helped him up.

            "You saved me…" Allegro stammered, picking up his weapon. Pharaoh Man's eyes dimmed out a bit.

            "Let's hope that a robot can be forgiven for these actions." Pharaoh Man shot back tersely. "In my previous life, I would be dead." The Robot Master looked around for a moment, then leapt up into the air with an effortless spring jump and hurled a series of smaller plasmic energy globes below, pelting the glacierscape with pockmarks as he attempted to keep their foes off guard.

            Wycost's eyes flashed angrily behind his visor as he stared at his own problem, a human with a medium grade plasma rifle staring him down. Slowly, he braced his knees and curled his left arm inwards. The human kept the gun in close, but only used one hand to aim it…not one to be easily overcome, by the way he held himself.

            The plasma rifle went off, unleashing a thin piercing stream of supercharged energy towards the Bronx Bomber. Wycost registered it coming with speed only a reploid could hold and leapt into the air, adding power from his dash thrusters to further the jump. Beneath him, years of ice gave way with an angry hiss as the high grade plasma sunk in. Wycost's goggles suddenly blared with warnings and flashing alarm lights, causing the Bronx Bomber to cringe for a moment. However, he soon realized the cause.

            The human wasn't using it as a repeater…rather, he kept the beam on full force, raking it up out of the ground and towards Wycost's position in the sky, utilizing the plasma gun as a massive cutting beam that singed a large path through the air.

            "Blast you, NO!!!" Wycost screamed, switching over from his Buster's plasma function to one of his special weapons. The crystal datanode emblazoned with the missile icon on the side of his Buster turned on, glowing a bright green as it indicated the selection. Wycost could see the biting red beam crawling closer and closer, he didn't have much time…

            The front end of his Buster shifted out a bit, expanding in diameter for a brief moment as the Bronx Bomber unleashed his Narwhal Striker round. Homed in on the brilliant source of the plasmaburst by heat signature, the explosive homing missile flipped out its maneuvering wings and turned inwards, its miniature rocket engine exploding to life with a brilliant whine.

            The Enhanced human's eyes widened for a moment at the missile's appearance, and for a brief moment there was a blaze of sudden intuitive thought in the MI9 agent's eyes.

            The beam turned away from Wycost, aiming now for the missile screaming towards him at uncomfortably close range. The human narrowed his eyes and targeted the round, blowing it out of the sky with a precision midair slash. But at the range it was located, the Narwhal Striker's explosion kept coming, crashing into the Enhanced human's EM shield and causing it to crackle and slightly fade, dissipating from the amount of power it had been forced to hold back. His finger released from the trigger, and the waving beam of power dipped out of life.

            The MI9 agent didn't get a chance to get his bead back on Wycost and pull the trigger again. The Bronx Bomber had realigned himself in midair and was shooting down at the human with the full force his overloaded Dash Thrusters could muster. And what was worse was, that as Wycost hurled himself downwards, smouldering eyes hidden behind his sunglare visor, his Buster glowed with the light of another datanode.

            The Enhanced human had no chance to avoid the sudden flash of light, the intensity straining upwards beyond normal limits. When the Strobe Flash hit, it had immediate effects. The human screamed in pain as his eyes burned and faded out to a brilliant white, then shut down entirely into inky darkness.

            The human, now blinded for the rest of his existence, pulled the trigger and aimed at what he hoped was Wycost's general direction. The spiraling plasma beam cut out and nicked Wycost's shoulder, but in the end proved to be ineffective, only causing the Bronx Bomber to grunt in angered pain and let his Buster shift back into a hand. Wycost pushed his full weight forward and slammed into the Enhanced human, one hand reaching up to the MI9 agent's own tight fisted grip on the gun and forcing the blast skyward and away from himself.

            The human struggled and screamed, striking out with his right foot to try and push Wycost away with a sharp blow to the stomach. Wycost shifted to the side easily to avoid the wrenching stomach shot and then glared, twisting the human's wrist that held the gun. The fragile bone structure underneath snapped easily, causing the human to scream out in further pain. Yet he still held to the gun tightly, gripping it between his now sluggish and unresponsive fingers by sheer will alone. With his only good hand, the human pushed Wycost backwards, trying to overpower the reploid.

            "Oh, no you don't…" Wycost growled, pushing back and forcing the human's now traumatized arm up over his head and backwards, snapping it off at the elbow.

            The human screamed again, and yet the plasma rifle still remained active, burning away. Only now on its new arc, the beam of burning power  slammed into the EM shield surrounding the massive satellite of shaped ice that formed the physical heart of Ice Beacon. The shield flared angrily, but did not give way, continuing to absorb the power of the plasma rifle with ease. Wycost ground his teeth together and finally kicked the human between the legs. Whatever reserves of strength the human had left vanished as he collapsed from the shock. Wycost stepped back and removed the plasma rifle's power pack, then crushed the rest of the assembly underneath one of his boots. The Enhanced human lay there on the ground, teetering in unconsciousness, but still painfully alive.

            Wycost took a moment to stare up above at the EM shield surrounding the thing they were trying to destroy, watching it revert back to its placid state as the attacking force ceased. He bit his lip and shook his head.

            "Let's hope they manage to take out the shield emitter." He muttered quietly. And that was one of the last things he said.

            He heard the magrifle round slice through his reploid armor and punch through his entire upper body after he felt it…

            The burning pain was instantaneous.

            The Mavericks and Maverick Hunters had been so deeply intertwined in their struggle that the appearance of a cavalry charge from the south caught them completely off guard. With engines screaming from overdrive mode and the Landchaser nose blasters extended and firing, the Maverick Hunters' second wave flew into the battle.

            The effect was immediate, scattering forces left and right on both sides of the fight.

            Grinning from ear to ear as he led the charge, Gavin drove through the masses, aiming for his ultimate goal of Sigma at the very heart of it all. In fact, the Maverick King looked surprised and out of sorts as he realized the new threat, one that he had been unable to predict. And if seeing the Hunters charging in on their Landchasers had a positive effect on the bedraggled Hunters already present, it made the Mavericks suddenly lose their fighting edge.

            Only four of the six Maverick Generals remained alive as the cavalry charge came rolling in, two locked in heated combat with the greatest Hunters alive, and the other two dealing with the majority of the Hunter forces. Dolph looked over in shock, then drew his hands in close about him. Responding in kind, his plasmic hands dropped in as well, providing a potent barrier that allowed Dolph to deal with the newer threats. Shell Butane popped free of his flaming roll and stopped beside Dolph, looming over the smaller Maverick and using his heavily armored back to protect the both of them. The Turtloid's eyes narrowed grimly as he unloaded another scorching wave of high grade flaming oil upon the Mavericks around him, even deterring some of the crazier Landchaser armed fools that drew too near.

            "Burst and Cume…" Shell said darkly.

            "Gone. I know." Dolph replied back quickly, eyes burning with fiery tears. "GONE!!" Reflexively, Dolph flung his protective arms out and batted aside one of the unwary Landchaser riders who wasn't concentrating on the battle as much as he should have been. He quickly drew his paws back in, deflecting a barrage of shots from the left as he did. "Damnit…We weren't ready after all, after all that training…we're still no match!!"

            "Sigma made this challenge." Shell agreed, suddenly picking up Dolph and holding him tight against his body. "Come on!!"

            The Turtloid Maverick pulled his legs and head into his shell, but kept his arms out and holding Dolph. In a quick burst of speed and momentum, the Maverick tore a straight path towards Zero and Dash.

            Dolph chittered thankfully, seeing the brilliance in his Maverick friend's plan. He swung his arms out…the only part of his body he could…and succeeded in creating a spinning set of plasmic blender hands, turning in coordination with Shell's burning fire wheel attack.

            Gavin found himself steering straight into that maelstrom of plasma hands and plasmic fire, whether he wanted to or not. His eyes widened in surprise for only a moment before his determination took over.

            "Shit, boss!! Get outta there!!" Came the worried scream of Jad over the comm.

            "Gav, be careful! These guys play worse than rough!" Kol added as an afterthought.

            "Shut up and lemme DO MY JOB!!" Gavin bellowed back, snapping his ring finger off of the comm transmission switch on the Landchaser's handegrips. Narrowly, he stared through the roaring flames and focused on the hands. There had to be a way, there had to…

            _And there it is…_

            The Maverick Hunter grinned and reached down to his waist, pulling off one of his plasma fragmentation grenades. Not nearly as potent as Zero's Rakuhouha, they did have the added benefit of a delayed explosion.

            "Gav, what the Hell…" Kol began tersely through the comm, though Gavin offered no response. The second in command of the 21st Unit merely tore off the firing pin with his bare teeth and focused his eyes once again.

            _Cycle…cycle…3…2…NOW!!!_

With a loud scream and as much determination as a Hunter could give, Gavin took his shot and lobbed the plasma grenade. The lofted projectile swung and wobbled through the air, but finally arced downwards, slipping into an open hole of Shell Butane's armor…the one where his head had been. The device laughed at the roaring flames searing out of it and carried through with no heed of the powerful attack.

            _Three points…but now for the rebound!!_

            Gavin gritted his teeth and dug fingermarks into his Landchaser's grips. He had to do this just right, or he would still be scrap.

            When he was closer, he hit the full afterburners of his Landchaser once again, then arced the thing's nose up into a wheelie and flattened his body against the entire assembly.

            With what could only be called dumb luck, Gavin made a jump through Dolph Reach's rotating path of destruction, leaping over one spinning plasmic hand and narrowly avoiding getting his head chopped off by the other. Carried with immense speed by his technological mount, Gavin easily cleared the safe distance, then screeched to a sudden stop as he whipped the Landchaser about and aimed its nose cannon at the two Mavericks.

            It wasn't required.

            Dolph, what with his line of sight spinning horrendously out of focus by Shell's efforts, didn't know about the plasmic grenade that had been lobbed inside the protective shell of his friend. But he did glare angrily when one of the pesky Landchaser riding Maverick Hunters somehow managed to jump through his wheel of spinning death.

            But then he heard it, and felt it. The explosion of a plasma fragmentation grenade somewhere nearby. Nearby, but tempered somehow, as if dampened by…

            Dolph's heart stopped as he felt Shell Butane's arms grow limp and the spin begin to subside. _Oh, shit no…NO!! NO!!!_

No groan came from inside the shell. There was only the incredible rush as Shell Butane's flames were cut off and replaced with a rush of glorious angry plasma, and then all the waves of searing energy faded. No scream, no yelp. No sudden cry of dismay.

            Just the explosion.

            Shell Butane rolled to a halt, falling off of his side and flat onto his stomach. Dolph scrambled out of the way, then erected his plasmic hands as a protective barrier around himself and the vulnerable headhole of his comrade's carapace.

            "Shell…SHELL!!" Dolph cried out, shaking the incredibly large and well protected shell with his foot. "Damnit, Shell…Get up and talk to me!!"

            Magrifle rounds and plasma bullets impacted against the makeshift shield…not a one made it through, though. Dolph stood there, between the firing of the Maverick Hunters and the limp form of his friend, anxiously trying to get a response.

            And then Dolph saw the purple reploid blood begin to leak out of the openings in Butane's covering. And a half-atomized arm flopped out, trembling for a moment before falling silent.

            He fought back the tears and the gasping breaths as long as he could…but then Dolph slumped to his knees and reared his head back.

            And then he screamed…a scream so loud it overpowered every blast, every explosion around him. Every person on the battlefield turned and realized his pain in that cry, and every Maverick Hunter trembled.

            Gavin could feel the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly turn erect.

            Dolph's cry faded away into the void, and then his head came back down. His eyes glowed full bore red…the madness had taken him.

            No mercy, no hint of the former Jetstream remained now. He had succumbed to the Virus wholly, given himself and his spirit up to the power and insanity that Sigma's disease brought.

            Gavin's eyes widened in shock as he watched the Maverick General slowly shift his gaze around the battlefield, seemingly hunting for a specific target.

            And then Dolph, now truly Dolph Reach, the servant of Sigma, laid eyes on Gavin and his Landchaser. The blurred red eyes narrowed, Dolph stood up.

            "Oh, damn." Gavin murmured, wishing in that brief moment he had a pen and paper to write his will. A part of him felt like he needed it.

            More shots impacted on Dolph's makeshift barrier. The Maverick paid no heed, stretching out for a moment and not once breaking sight with Gavin…his target.

            _Well…there's no stopping this now. No stopping it at all._

            Gavin whipped his Landchaser around, allowing the shock of Dolph's transformation to fade away from his mind. He tightened his hands on the cycle's grips again and glared.

            "Well, let's go then, you sonofa…" Gavin muttered underneath his breath.

            X and Kazok fought with a ferocity that the Landchaser's approach didn't dampen in the least. Neither gave any ground, firing in all directions. Indeed, the Hunters and Mavericks that were closest had purposefully moved away from the fight, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of flying plasma bullets. And that crossfire was indeed on a different level of intensity that few could understand.

            In his years of protecting the world, X's skill with the weapon that was a part of him since birth had only increased. And now, in the deepest part of his warrior's rage, a mist that hung over him and blocked out incongruous thoughts, that already immense skill doubled. Kazok dodged away from one blast, only to find three more coming towards him, seeking to block any escape route, any hope of avoiding certain doom.

            By the same token, what X had in ability to attack, Kazok contained within his power to dodge and swerve, acting more like a gyroscope in his low orbit, contorting and twisting his body in all directions. Backflipping while his body was curled in on itself, Kazok skated the storm, grinning as he felt the shots pass harmlessly by his body, one even sliding through the makeshift hole between his legs and torso.

            "You grow stronger with your rage, you know??" Kazok called out, shifting his arm up and firing off his supershot. The hot plasma hurled itself downwards, but X deftly moved to the side with a boost from his thrusters and released his own. "Stronger…but you realize that reliance makes you WEAK!!" By will and the power his gravicrystals gave him, Kazok encapsulated the supershot in a powerful magnetic field, stopping it cold in its tracks. X narrowed his eyes and braced himself, charging up once more.

            As if hurling a grenade, Kazok flung the traitorous plasma back to its source. X glared again and shifted away from it, taking care to avoid the blast as much as he could. The heat baking his back he really couldn't avoid…But the full force of it he did.

            X shook his head. This was taking too long…and if he kept it up at this pace, Kazok Gravor might indeed win. Not a fate that the Blue Bomber of 21XX was all that favorable over.

            _Dad…please…I need some advice here!_

            It came. Whether or not through his own drive, or from a source of another above, it came. X shut his eyes, almost feeling a comforting hand on his shoulder.

            **_X…You can do this. You know you can. But remember that Sigma is the target. Kazok is only an obstacle._**

****X's blue armor swirled and morphed into a brilliant green, a familiar enough tint to those who had fought with or against him in two conflagrations past. Not that of the Double Tornado, but the Narwhal Cannon.

            X depressed the trigger on his Buster, allowing the charge to grow and grow. Kazok paid little heed to the sound, but did notice the color change.

            "Huh. Trying to play the part of a chameleon, X?" The Maverick shook his head. "It won't help you one damn bit."

            X crouched down a bit and fiddled with his mind some.

            _Disengage Buster safeties. Prepare Level 4 charge shot._

**Warning. Equipment missing integral stabilizing components. Possibility of overload risk is 79%.**

_DO IT._

**Confirmed. Level 4 charge shot enabled. Be advised, overcharging is not safe and may result in…**

X ignored the rest. "Come on, Kazok. Just stop the talking and FIGHT ME." The Maverick snarled, a gust of wind blowing back his nightshade tinted hair and revealing the fire within his gray eyes.

            X braced himself, holding down the trigger, continuing to hold it down. In the corner of his eye, a new meter popped up, the device that measured the charge present within his Buster. Normally, it would have one line about halfway…for the Level 2 shot. If it had been full, then he would have been able to fire a Level 3…Supershot.

            But now that gauge had transformed itself. A green line now sat a third of the way from the bottom of the bar…and a yellow line lay two-thirds of the way up. And at the very top of the Buster's power gauge capped a brilliant purple line.

            X grinned, despite the inherent dangers of using the overcharge function without the stabilizing processors his armor upgrades usually granted him. Somehow, having that extra level made him feel that much safer…and that much more capable.

            Kazok soared towards him, gravicrystals spinning furiously around him, threatening to slice off limbs of those foolish enough to stand in his way. X glared and continued to hold in his charge, letting it build. He only hoped it would appear in time.

            _Level 2…almost…_

            Kazok slammed into X swerving the Blue Bomber through the sky in a crazy loop before dive bombing and slamming X into the ground below with an earth shattering crash. His gravicrystals held their positions, but stopped rotating about him. Kazok drew in breath after breath, then squeezed X's throat tight with his left hand.

            _Level 3…come on, baby…_

            Kazok's hand clenched tightly around X's neck, stopping the precious blood supply and its energy nanites from reaching the integral parts of his brain. His right hand came up, still in Buster form, and pointed at X's head.

            "Game over, X. Looks like it'll be me who gets the pleasure of stopping Sigma."

            X felt his head growing faint from the lack of energy, but at that moment, the gauge filled completely and the whine of X's charging Buster reached its peak.

            The Blue Bomber of 21XX grinned weakly and let his head bounce left and right.

            "Not even close…"

            Before Kazok's stunned eyes, motes of energy sprang forth from X's Buster and coalesced around his body, drawing in matter and mass from the air and turning into something…Something that the Maverick found hard to place, as X suddenly became covered from head to toe in a bristling array of hard-tipped conal spines.

            X shut his eyes, knowing the usual effect of having his Narwhal Cannon's charged blast going off at such close range. But Kazok didn't stand a chance.

            Every last missile ignited and took off. Some skittered harmlessly through the air, finally exploding in thunderous fury. But the majority of the blasts impacted on Kazok, the points embedding themselves within the Maverick and his array of functioning gravicrystals, forcing the stunned adversary of Mega Man X backwards before the charges detonated.

            X was spared the majority of the blast, but enough of it still hit the knowing Hunter that his energy dropped to somewhere below a third and stayed there. And as for Kazok…

            X lost sight of Kazok within that mess of explosions, but knew what would happen. Blast after blast went off, some synched and some not, but all with devastating force. A part of him felt vindicated, thrilled, ecstatic even.

            Without his armors, the 'great Mega Man X' had defeated an opponent whose skill and craftiness ranked above most. Without his armors, X had remained alive and proven that ingenuity still counted for much in a battle.

            And yet…another part of him felt hollow. Kazok had shown emotional tendencies…few other Mavericks had ever displayed. Remorse. Penance. A desire to be cleansed. Only a few others came to mind…Overdrive Ostrich…Blizzard Buffalo…Sting Chameleon.

            And here it had happened again.

            Kazok didn't even have time enough to scream. But he had deserved it…pain, such unending pain…By the time the smoke had cleared, he was collapsed to the hard ground, and all but one of his gravicrystals had been shattered apart. That one, badly cracked and only moments away from explosion, hovered beside him with the grace of a drunken priest.

            **_Warning. Internal operations energy at 15%. Critical damage received. Armor beyond repair. Seek immediate repair. Ready auto-stasis??_**

****_NEGATIVE._

_            **Danger of complete control chip memory dump exists. Take precautions.**_

            Numbly, Kazok looked up…or tried to. The setting sun blinded him for a moment, so purple…

            With sudden realization as he brought his hand up to his face, he realized that blood was seeping over his eyes and blurring his vision.

            Kazok was dying. And as he did, one thought came to mind.

            _DASH…DASH!!!_

            X walked over to Kazok and reselected his basic weapon, allowing his armor to shift back to its traditional blue. He took in a few breaths, then shook his head.

            "Sigma is mine to destroy. Not yours."

            "So it would seem…" Kazok replied weakly, letting his left eye shut lazily on itself. "In the end…you proved to be better than me. Or craftier, at least."

            X shook his head, biting his tongue. "Damnit…Answer me, Kazok. What do you have to gain by seeing Sigma DEAD?? You made no sense…"

            "Perfect sense…if one thinks for a moment that there can come a time when a Maverick ceases to be infected." Kazok chuckled back, spitting up a mouthful of blood on himself.

            X's eyes widened, suddenly seeing the truth.

            _Oh God no…_

"You…you destroyed the Virus within you??"

            "Me and Dash did, yes." Kazok replied weakly. "To spite Sigma, and to find each other…we fought off his infection. I'm for all purposes…clean. But my soul is not."

            X said nothing, but merely stood beside Kazok and let his Buster hand limply at his side. Some of the other Hunters around suddenly noticed the end to the battle, and began to draw closer, preparing to end Kazok's existence. X whirled about and glared at them.

            "DON'T YOU DARE FIRE!!" He barked angrily. "This one's too far gone to save. Just let him die gracefully now."

            The other Hunters looked at one another in surprise and confusion, but eventually shrugged and turned away for other, more appealing targets. Like Sigma and the cloned Iris.

            "Sigma…used us all…URFAWP…" Kazok coughed, feeling more of his life drain away. X examined his wounds. Virtually all his armor was blown away, he was bleeding from what seemed like the entireity of his body…and his limbs looked too done in by the explosions to be used anymore. "I wanted to stop him…Wanted…NEEDED…Can't let Sigma…use anyone else…"

            "Enough." X muttered. He knelt down by Kazok and wiped some of the blood away from the ex-Maverick's eyes. "Stop. Please."

            "Stop what??" Kazok wheezed.

            "Trying to go beyond your ability."

            "I was good enough to mess you up for a bit." Kazok joked lightly. X smiled back.

            "Yeah…guess you were, scumbag."

            Kazok's smile faded into worry. "The things I did…the things he made me do…I can never forgive myself…" Kazok opened his eyes and looked at X. "Thank you."

            "For what?"

            "For stopping me. I'm too proud…to kill myself…" Kazok whispered. A tear rolled from the corner of his eye. "But you have one other to kill now. The one who did this to me."

            "Sigma." X murmured darkly.

            "You have to stop him now…for the both of us." Kazok emphasized, using up more of his precious life energy. "For all of us…that he has used…in his stupid wars…"

            "I will." X muttered back. "You can rest now, Kazok. I will stop Sigma. That is my promise."

            X nodded his head one last time at the ex-Maverick, then turned about, feeling his heart grow numb.

            _Sigma…how many times am I going to have to kill…Because of YOU??_

_            SIGMA…BLAST YOU!!!_

            His heart hardened, his fist tightened up. And he felt his rage returning.

            Off in the distance, he saw Sigma struggling with the waves of Hunters charging towards him.

            And he knew his target. In a blast of flames, the Blue Bomber took off towards the Maverick King…

            Carrying the dream of a Maverick who was no longer.

            Zero and Dash's fight still remained furious, but more so for the harrowed Maverick Feraloid, thanks to the sudden appearance of the Landchasers. They all blew by, too focused on the Mavericks closer to the center of this mess…namely, Sigma and Iris and Shell and Dolph. A few parting shots to Dash and they were gone.

            Zero and Dash continued to struggle, his plasma blade striking TitaniTefloAlloy claw time and time again. Neither gave up any ground, despite her wounds making it harder and harder to fight. To Dash, it was a fight with meaning, a battle to extinguish the flame of Zero, a warrior who had killed her ally in cold blood.

            _Burst…never had a chance, you never gave him a chance to redeem himself…_

            "YOU BASTARD!!" Dash growled, pushing his saber up and away from the both of them with her right claw, then brought in her left for a chest swipe. Zero's eyes went wide from the sudden attack, but he reacted as fast as he could. He dropped down below the slash, briefly releasing his saber to keep his arm attached and curling low. Her attack went overhead, cleanly missing him and striking open air.

            Zero took a moment to smirk, seeing the opportunity to end the struggle here and now. Clenching his right hand into a ball, he jammed it up straight into her abdomen with every part of his body pushing behind him. The blow caused her to choke on air and stumble backwards…no, even worse than that, the Crimson Hunter realized. The blow was so severe it took her clean off of her feet and sent her sprawling backwards through the air. His saber dangled on her claw for a moment, then shut off and fell away, easily being caught by the Crimson Hunter and reignited.

            Zero held his saber tightly and stared down at the Maverick Feraloid. A look of hatred ran between them both, reciprocated and enhanced by their violent natures.

            "End it." She hissed angrily. Zero harrumphed.

            "Thought you'd never ask." He lifted his saber up for the final strike.

            From the distance, but fast coming, Mega Man X ran from a badly injured and immovable Kazok Gravor. In the corner of his eye, though, he could make out Zero and his struggle…with that Maverick Feraloid, Dash Blade. It looked almost over.

            Something clicked in the back of his mind. Something that Kazok had muttered only seconds ago. His heart nearly stopped again.

            **_"Me and Dash did, yes…To spite Sigma, and to find each other…we fought off his infection."_**

            _Oh, God…no, I don't believe it…_

_            THEY'RE IN LOVE, NO!!!_

X, although a Maverick Hunter, still held at his core a prime set of beliefs. And at the top of that list was that he didn't kill true Mavericks.

            They had fought off the Virus together…by some miracle, they too had been able to internally delete the menace. And they had done it together, with love.

            Zero was about to end her life…_And he didn't understand, he didn't get it…_

            X knew he couldn't let that happen. Screaming loud, he pushed his dash thrusters beyond their normal capacity and flung towards Zero and Dash. He had to stop this, he had to…

            _Zero, don't do this!_

_            ZERO!!!_

            The Crimson Hunter's beam saber was raised high, its angry green plasma roiling about within the magnetic field casing. His green eyes burned with an angry fire met in Dash's equally incensed optics. But in her was resignation, shame, bitterness…in him was pure hatred and a lust for the ultimate destruction.

            Thankfully, something stopped him then. A brilliant level 2 plasma blast, a 'green sizzler' came out of nowhere, jarring his saber to the side and causing him to scorch a path through the ground beside Dash instead of through her.

            The Feraloid blinked her eyes in surprise, wondering where the Crimson Hunter's finishing blow was supposed to come from, if not from his saber.

            And then Mega Man X skidded beside Zero, gripping the Crimson Hunter's arm.

            "Don't do this, Zero." X said quietly, but forcefully. Zero turned about, shock evident.

            "WHAT??" X's seagreen eyes blinked sadly.

            "Zero, don't kill her. You've made your point."

            "X, have you gone HAYWIRE?! She's a Maverick, if I don't kill her now she may escape to kill again!"

            "She ISN'T Maverick." X shouted back angrily. He shook his head and turned to look down at Dash. "Kazok told me. You and him…internally deleted it."

            "Oh…Christ…" Zero muttered, swiveling his head about and looking down at Dash with new eyes. "She's clean??"

            "100%." She said, sluggishly picking herself up. She looked at X, a sudden nameless fear in her heart. "Kazok…"

            X winced a bit. "He's back there…alive, but I don't know for how long…"

            Dash's eyes went icy in an instant. "You bastard…"

            X shook his head. "I didn't know either, all right?? But nobody else is going to attack him, I did that much for him. You two…you're in love, aren't you?"

            Dash shook her head. "If he dies…that won't matter much."

            X shook his head. "Get going. Our focus is Sigma. No matter how many people he usurps from their positions to throw at us, he is still the heart of all of this…"

            "You swing from one end to the other awful damn fast these days." Zero muttered, extinguishing his saber and putting it away. X looked up at him and shrugged.

            "You want to kill love, Zero?"

            Feeling the hammerblow at his core, Zero growled at Dash, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

            "Get out of here, Maverick. Get out of here and find Kazok…before I change my mind and come after you." The venom in Zero's voice was forced, not real anymore. And the Feraloid knew it.

            Mixed emotions ran through the three, but finally Dash took off. No matter how much she wanted these two, wanted all the Hunters to suffer for killing her friends and for putting Kazok next to the grave, finding Kazok before he died…that was imperative.

            She vanished beyond X and Zero, aiming for somewhere in the back of the battle, leaving the Blue Bomber and the Crimson Hunter to look at one another.

            "What's happening to us, X?" Zero asked quietly. "Before Repliforce…that never would have fazed me."

            "Before Repliforce, you had less of a soul, and I had more." X replied. "I don't know what's happening to us. And I can't look for an answer now. All I do know at this moment, Zero, is that Sigma is right over there…and Sigma has to die."

            "For everything…for everyone…" Zero mumbled back, falling into agreement. His fist tightened up. "You and I are different, X, but somehow…"

            "You feel like we're becoming more like one another every day?" X mused, looking up into his partner's eyes with a smile. Zero nodded slowly. "I've felt it too."

            "So let's go then." Zero replied. "But remember…"

            "I won't hurt Iris." X reassured his friend. "God, I never could."

            "Sigma…" Zero growled, feeling fresh tears springing to his eyes. "He will die for this. Using our friends against us…"

            "He's always done that." X consoled him. "The only difference is now his underling is a copy of the woman you fell in love with."

            Zero said nothing to that.

            He just blasted on ahead, aiming for Sigma. Only Sigma.

            From this moment on, ALWAYS Sigma.

            Bastion and Bristol pushed in deeper through the underground corridors of Ice Beacon, paying little heed to the blaring warning sirens.

            **_Twelve minutes to signal transfer…_**

            There were few Enhanceds along the way, a discovery that the two took in stride. It looked as if the majority was above ground, defending the satellite itself from Wycost and the rest of the above ground strike force…

            Of course, Willow was back there somewhere, fighting off Jowers.

            Bastion brushed a crumbling piece of ice away from his face, running down the hall alongside his beloved. His face curled into a frown.

            "Why did Willow want to face that…Jowers person alone??"

            Not losing pace, Bristol tilted her head to the side and looked to Bastion, her source of strength ever since she was discovered barely alive in New Denver. She bit her lower lip, relying on memories that had only recently been awakened.

            "Willow and Jowers…at one time, Bastion, were more than mere allies. They were lovers." Bastion blinked in surprise, turning his attention ahead to deflect the blast from an activated plasma autoturret with one of his sabers.

            "No wonder…"

            "The relationship turned sour when MI9 shifted against us. Jowers, once so committed to her, in that animalistic, pure sexual manner…became her greatest foe." Bristol shook her head, feeling returning sadness draw to her. "There were times…when she and I were on the run…that her defiant, fiery personality would fade away and leave that shattered individual she keeps hidden from view."

            Bastion harrumphed. "Underneath it all…she still hurts?"

            "More than you know." Bristol said quietly.

            **_Eleven minutes until signal transfer…_**

            It was not a typical night. The skies were cloudless and pure, and there was a full moon out.

            Lost to the wilderness of South America, Willow and Bristol had somehow found the time to relax. A lot of that had to deal with the fact that MI9's chief lackeys, the Enhanced humans, were not out on the prowl tonight. It figured that even they needed time for sleep. And their location was not the easiest to find.

            An abandoned hut in an area of the jungle where growth had overtaken civilization was their hideout, and an effective one…so lost in the brush that nobody could have found it, even if they had tried.

            Bristol checked the side of her miniature rechargeable glowstick, watching its flickering halogen light with minor annoyance.

            "Damn…it's not holding as much of a charge anymore." Indeed, the luminescence it offered was nowhere near as strong as it had once been. "If I had some supplies, Willow…If only I had some supplies…"

            Bristol blinked a few times, then looked over to her comrade, who sat by the door with her beam whip lying sheathed in her left hand. "Willow?"

            The Irish Banshee remained silent…her head drooped to the floor, her eyes were downcast. Everything about how she lay there with her back against the wall and one knee drawn up to her spoke of a silent pain.

            Bristol walked over and knelt down in front of her friend, blue eyes shining in the dim light. "Willow…what's wrong?"

            Obviously, there was something else bothering Willow. The fiery Irish reploid was normally in gruff to dispassionate spirits…but now, now she demonstrated a side to her that Bristol had never seen. Pain. Sadness.

            It frightened Bristol.

            "Hey." Bristol said, reaching a hand out and shaking Willow's shoulder. The Irish Banshee felt like a rag doll, responding to Bristol's movements easily, but not caring all the same. "Willow…Willow!!" Bristol repeated, now with a trace of worry.

            Finally, Willow looked up at her friend, displaying eyes red with tears that streaked down her face.

            "I'm tired, Bristol."

            _Oh, great…_

            "Willow, I know you're tired. We both are, it's been a hard day. Why don't we fall into stasis for a while…"

            "NO!" Willow exclaimed, the point coming out nearly as a sob. Her lower lip began to quiver. "Blast it…you know what I mean, Bristol…"

            Bristol did.

            _Yes. Tired of running…tired of having to scamper away from or fight people we used to call friends…Of being persecuted simply because of what we are, and not of our actions…Of being homeless for weeks, having nowhere to run…_

"We can't stop." Bristol emphasized, looking into Willow's eyes. "We can't."

            Willow's eyes grew mistier still. "Bristol…why are they doing this? Why?? Because we're reploids? What kind of a reason is that, how can you deem the utter destruction of a race simply because of their exterior differences?!"

            "Hush…" Bristol said quietly, drawing Willow's head to her chest and holding her friend tight. Slowly, Willow's wall collapsed, the female reploid began to cry, unleashing all the stored up emotions she had held in check since they had narrowly escaped MI9 HQ. "I'm here, Willow. I'm here…"

            "Jowers…" Willow sobbed, pulling her arms up and around Bristol. "Why…why is he doing this??"

            Bristol herself began to break down then.

            _Jowers…_

_            You loved __Willow__…just why are you trying to kill her now?_

_            Blast it, why is MI9 trying to kill the reploids?!_

In the end, Bristol had no answer to that.

            She could only brush back Willow's hair with her free hand, and sing a quiet lullaby.

            And eventually, the drain of the day took its toll, and the two fell asleep…

            Still clinging to each other. For each other was all they could trust now.

            "We should be getting close." Bristol murmured.

            "How can you tell?" Bastion called back, jumping off the wall slightly to give Bristol more room through the narrow corridor. "These halls all look the same to me!!"

            "Instinct." Bristol said firmly, trusting the rising feeling within herself and pushing forward by its demands. "I've walked through their halls for years. They may look the same to you, but after a time, traveling through these mazes of MI9 becomes…well, instinct."

            "If only you had known before…If only I had known…" Bastion replied quietly. "If you had been MI9 all along, and you hadn't lost your memory…"

            Bristol skidded to a stop, whipping her head about and staring at Bastion incredulously. "What?"

            Bastion shifted in place, looking about and then letting his eyes settle on her.

            "If you had not been as you were…would you still love me?" His eyes fell a little. "Even now…"

            Bristol took two short steps up to Bastion and pressed a finger to his lips. Her eyes, calm and demure, held volumes in that cool gaze.

            Any lingering doubts Bastion held about her feelings towards him evaporated when she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss that would make a teenager blush. She kept it going for a few seconds, then pulled away, squeezing his hand hard.

            "Bastion, in all my days of wandering, you have been my strength. My source of comfort. I left to find my past, not to run from you. I left because if I hadn't, then I would never be truly happy, not even with you."

            "And now?" Bastion asked, smiling and pushing her hair back.

            "I know who I am." Bristol replied, her face firm. "And I know what has to be done. But most importantly…I know who I love." She touched his nose. "You. And don't ever forget that."

            She turned and kept running, and Bastion followed.

            The corridor thinned out, then opened into a massive squarish area with tables and an open corridor on the other side. Above it glowed four words; **Shield Emitter Control Room.**

            "It's this way!!" Bristol exclaimed, charging ahead with a burst of flames and passing through the length of the room and into the opposing corridor. Bastion was caught off guard by her sudden action, and lagged behind as she dashed on.

            But just as Bastion reached the center of the room, and Bristol was a fairer distance down the next corridor, the room's lights flashed brighter, and a blast door descended out of nowhere, slamming into the icy floor and shutting off the corridor Bristol had already flung herself into. Bastion's eyes widened, and he dashed over to the other side of the room, pounding on the barrier, then striking at it with his two sabers.

            No effect…the blades slashed, but were reflected away as if by a master swordsman.

            "God…TitaniTefloAlloy…" He muttered in shock. "Bristol!!"

            _"Bastion!!" _Came the worried voice from the other side, and a muffled pounding. _"Bastion, answer me!!"_

            Of course, the Desert Angel would get no such chance. Not while MI9 remained in control of its own domain.

            From underneath Bastion, the floor pulled away to reveal a gaping hole leading countless meters into a darkness below. Surprised and startled, Bastion scrambled to jump up and grab a handhold on the wall.

            It was at that moment the walls themselves shifted, growing less pliable, ungrippable…offering no chance at friction, and the ice was so thick his grappling claws that sprang from his arm gauntlets proved useless, bouncing off harmlessly as if he was shooting lasers at a mirror.

            Bastion struggled all the while, though, until he could no longer remain. And even as he plunged into the darkness, he screamed at the door, hoping beyond hope his angel could hear him.

            "Keep going, Bristol!! SHUT IT DOWN!!"

            On the other side of those doors, Bristol did hear Bastion scream that defiant statement. All the same, she still found her spirit crushed and her body unwilling to respond.

            Once again, fate had torn her apart from the man she loved. And she had no way of knowing if he was still alive, or if…

            _NO!!_

            A sudden defiant chord rang through her being, forcing her to stand erect and clench her fists. Bastion was right. She didn't have time to worry about him, about anyone else who had chosen to stay behind so that the others…namely her…could go forth and hopefully destroy the heart of Ice Beacon's machinations.

            Her dreams…just dreams…Isaiah had told her that. Whether she allowed them to overpower her, or ignored them and made a different reality that reploids could still live in, that was in her power. Not anyone elses'.

            She turned and charged on, running through the corridor with all the fury and strength she could muster. Time was running out. The world was counting on her. Her friends were counting on her…

            And Bastion was counting on her.

            The corridor turned and dropped lower still, nearly turning the floor into a slide. Bristol angled her torso and turned her legs about, slowing her momentum as much as she possibly could. And yet she could sense that her goal was just a little farther…already she could hear the familiar thrum of electromagnetic shield producing equipment just beyond.

            Just beyond, down the hall, and to that distant light…

            Bastion pushed off the slippery wall as best as he could, then activated his flight visor. The two bands of light red see-through display and protective plastic snapped together above his nose, whirring as the sensors came to life.

            _A fair distance across…hmm, good._

            Sure he wouldn't bang himself up, Bastion summoned forth his Angel's Advantage flight armor once more, exhaling in relief a little as the versatile armor snapped out and slowed his descent, emanating a strong repulsive electromagnetic field to the Earth. He looked down, accessing his thermal scanner…

            Not much farther to the bottom, but then again, as he turned to look above…

            The roof snapped shut above him. Bastion narrowed his eyes.

            _So much for that option. Looks like I'm stuck playing their game…for now._

            He decreased his wing's output and dropped the rest of the way down, pulling the wings back in and holding both lit sabers out in front of him.

            The room was dim to begin with…slowly, the lights began to power up and reveal more of his surroundings.

            Another room, with a blast door guarding the way out. And surrounding him, three MI9 elites, glaring at him from underneath their thermal ponchos.

            "Well, well…" Bastion mused, twirling one saber about in nervousness. "Looks like the initial strike force managed to spare a few stragglers." Once Bastion had noticed his company, the lights dimmed back down again, blanketing them all in darkness.

            The MI9 Enhanceds let their beam staffs spring to life with a dark black glow. Bastion snapped his two sabers together into his own distinctive beam staff and looked at them all, watching the one behind him from the corner of his eye.

            "Come on then…LET'S PARTY!!"

            Bristol came to a halt inside a massive room, larger than any of the ones before it. The reason became apparent very quickly.

            Sitting in the center of the room was a massive generator, whirling about at blazing speeds with little concern for anything in its way. The low thrum she had heard before now became nearly deafening, causing the room to vibrate in response. The lights were cool, causing the white ice to shimmer brilliant shades of blue instead. Her hot breath, now released as she saw her goal in front of her, formed into solid vapor and rose for a few precious moments.

            _Isaiah…it's here, it's right here…my ability to finally change that nightmarish future I saw!!_

She pulled up her beam saber, staring at the dynamo for a few more moments, examining it and its surroundings. Aside from the generator that fed power to the greedy EM shield protecting the transmitter dish, the room remained relatively threadbare. A few monitoring computers here and there, but outside of that, the floor was calm. There was a second level above, which seemed to allow the diagnosis of the humongous power cables that extended to the ceiling of the towering cylindrical room and even farther…The generator itself seemed to emanate a radiant heat that the room and environment gladly absorbed.

            _Probably put it here to keep things cool. God knows that EM field draws in way too much power for its own good._

            She held her saber in her right hand, then quickly walked over to one of the panels and began to access it.

            It blinked at her angrily, and she frowned. "Password protected…"

            **_Ten minutes until signal transfer…_**

            "God Damnitall…" She hissed, pounding in one of her old all-access MI9 codes that flew to mind. The monitor blinked green, then settled down and accessed the various menus. Bristol grinned triumphantly and reached for the onscreen 'powerdown' controls.

            And then she heard the whine…the unmistakable sound of a large plasma cannon, not an X-Buster, reaching maximum capacity.

            With speed honed by her escape from MI9 HQ with Willow alone, Bristol flung herself to the side, suddenly glad as the console splintered apart into melted atoms.

            "Not gonna be that easy, reploid." Came a ragged voice from above. Bristol rolled to her knees and stared up, holding her saber just below her line of sight in a defensive posture.

            A human, male and slightly older than most, dropped down from above, a high grade plasma cannon held over his left shoulder. His hair was beginning to thin and gray, but his eyes held that same icy glare Bristol had seen in MI9's forces time and time again.

            He hit the icy floor with minimum impact, standing up to his full height and leveling the gun at Bristol, clutching it against his waist with both hands. "Frankly, my dear, you're better off dead to us now."

            "You never could make up your mind about what I should have been." Bristol said, trying to ignore the shaking feeling in her heart. That gun he held in his hands was more than capable of destroying her with a single good hit. "Alive?? Dead?? You needed the UBF, but you didn't realize that until the witch hunt was half over with!!"

            "So we humans make mistakes." Kowalski shrugged. His eyes narrowed. "What we're doing here today will correct one of those errors."

            "Reploids were NOT an error, Commander." Bristol said angrily, looking at his rank insignia on his parka. "And every day, there are good souls who go out and prove you wrong with their actions."

            "And then there's freaks like Sigma and the Mavericks. Or Repliforce." Kowalski growled back. "Who either are tainted goods by the Maverick Virus, or who have chosen of their OWN VOLITION to do humanity in."

            "Damnit, we have people who are FIGHTING against that!!" Bristol shouted back, standing a little taller. "The Maverick Hunters…"

            "Little more than a bandage on a severed arm." Kowalski growled. "But enough. Today, here and now, your legacy ends. And it's only fitting that the first reploid to die today should be the one that allowed this to happen."

            Kowalski took one look around the room, then tossed his plasma cannon aside. "Not enough space in here…knowing you, Bristol, you'd find some way to make me shoot the shield emitter dynamo. So we'll take this to your primitive level."

            As the heavy cannon clattered to the icy floor, the man known as Kowalski drew out another plasma class weapon. Bristol's eyes narrowed, she'd seen its make before. Basic beam staff. Black bladed, no doubt.

            But instead, two massive tridents sprung from the traditional cylinder, glowing a malignant purple in the blue light of the room. Bristol was taken aback by the strange weapon, almost losing grip on her own. Thankfully, she willed herself not to lose it.

            Kowalski glared at her. No mercy, no respect. Just hatred and malevolence to a power that only MI9 could offer.

            "Just try it." Bristol called back, managing to keep her voice from trembling.

            And he did.

            The majority of the Maverick Hunters had turned their ferocious attentions towards the center of the fight, where Sigma and Iris somehow stood their ground. It was growing harder to, though…while they could avoid most of the Buster shots aimed their way and blow away the magweapon armed foes, the one thing that Sigma hadn't accounted for in his strategy was the presence of a SECOND group of Hunters on Landchasers, charging up from the south and blowing away any hope of the Mavericks winning the day.

            The Maverick King's face looked more sour than usual because of that fact. He turned around and launched another wave of missiles, succeeding only in annoying most of the Landchaser Hunters, who jumped the cycles out of the way with ease and turned about to launch a furious assault of nose cannon blasts.

            Iris cursed angrily, flipping her magrifle over her shoulder for a brief moment and pulling out her pink bladed beam saber, switching it to life to deflect some of the more accurate blasts. With her other arm she brought the magrifle up to bear and buried a round into the engine of the nearest offending machine, taking both rider and craft to oblivion in a fiery explosion.

            "Sigma, there's too many of them!!" She called out over to him, her voice ringing above the sound of plasma noise and explosives.

            "Heh…there always have been, Iris. The trick is you have to be BETTER THAN THEM!!" Sigma shouted back, suddenly boosting next to a hotshot Landchaser rider and yanking him from his seat.

            Jad gasped for air as he felt Sigma's massive hands begin to clench down around his jugular. The Maverick Hunter from the 21st Unit kicked and struggled, all to no avail. Sigma kept the fool at arm's distance and held in such a way that no hand to hand techniques would work. Angrily, Jad brought up his arm and shifted it into a Buster, planning to blow away Sigma's ugly face on the spot.

            Equally perturbed, Sigma brought about his other hand and ignited the plasma gauntlet, slamming the single knifelike blade through the Hunter's arm and removing the danger with a satisfying gush of blood.

            The Buster and arm collapsed to the ground, draining a small amount of blood before falling dormant. Jad took one stunned look at his stump of an arm…and then screamed.

            Kol heard it, of course. He should have. Everyone around the battlefield heard that gut wrenching anguished yelp. But few people aside from Kol could instantly identify it. The Maverick Hunter's eyes went wide, then dark with fury. He turned his Landchaser about and trained his nose cannon onto Sigma, who was facing away from him.

            "Damn you, you Maverick sonofa…" He pulled the trigger, then pulled it again…twelve shots in all rang out from that cannon before the Maverick Hunter felt the trigger freeze up, warning him of overheating.

            Sigma wasn't able to see the shots coming. But Iris could…how she was situated gave her a clear view as Kol's Landchaser flipped about and began its furious attack.

            "SIGMA! BEHIND YOU!!" She called out in horror. To her surprise, the man she loved didn't respond, but pulled his hand back to destroy the one Hunter he held in his hand.

            A thousand thoughts raced through Iris's mind, but one was clear above all…

            Sigma didn't know the attack was coming, and it might very well do him in.

            She had to act fast. Heart beating a thousand paces a minute, she dashed over to ten feet in front of his back and whirled around, dropping the magrifle to the ground and holding her pink beam saber in both hands now.

            X and Zero weren't that far from the thick of things to begin with, and by the time that Kol had fired his shots, they were within perfect view of everything that was transpiring.

            As Iris threw herself in front of the horrendous Landchaser plasma barrage, Zero felt his own heart stop.

            "Oh God no…IRIS, NOO!!!"

            Iris wasn't skilled enough with her blade to deflect them all. How they were spaced, how they came…she managed to block the first three, but the rest impacted. The first knocked her saber out of her hand with a blistering collision, and the rest felt better suited to sink into her body, filling her with pain and a sudden, overwhelming strain on her systems. One by one, the parts of her body gave out, damaged too badly by the attack or shut down to conserve power in a desperate, but futile attempt to keep her alive.

            Only as she gasped out one final time did Sigma pause from what he was doing and turn around to look.

            What he saw caused him to throw Jad away like a rag roll some fifteen feet distant and summon a power from deep within himself.

            Through the power of the Maverick Virus, Sigma enveloped both himself and Iris within an incredibly strong EM field. To all outside appearances, it was as if a massive black sphere had suddenly engulfed the two Mavericks.

            Zero charged in ahead of X, charging at the shield with full force, but being blown away by the crackling energies. Stunned, but angry and bellowing, the Crimson Hunter dashed back over and began to strike at the shield with his beam saber, netting little better results.

            "Zero!!" X called out worriedly, trying to approach his friend. But nothing got through to Zero. He was lost within himself, trying furiously to reach out and save Iris.

            Kol pulled beside Jad's slowly writhing form and killed the engine, hopping down and propping his friend's head up on his lap.

            "Jad, it's me. Kol." He said quickly. "Speak to me, man…"

            "My arm…" Jad wheezed, still staring at his stump. "He…took my arm…"

            Inwardly, Kol sighed in relief as he punched Jad in the shoulder. The Maverick Hunter had had his pride and a limb ripped apart…but he would live.

            Too bad Kol couldn't say the same for so many others who had still been alive at the start of all this.

            Iris lay on the ground, gasping for air. Her brown hair's hairband had come undone, and the silken strands lay beneath her as a pillow. Her eyes squeezed out tears, feeling the convulsions ravage her from the indescribable pain. Her stomach burned, her chest ached, screaming from the burns and destroyed pieces of her body.

            "Sigma…" She gasped, curling both arms around her body, unconsciously curling up on herself. "Help…me…"

            The Maverick King looked at her for a few moments, staring over her wounds.

            _The fool…that blast would have barely scratched me. Now look at her._

_            **Heh…funny you should say that.**_

            Sigma's eyes darkened as the Virus made its reappearance at last. _Didn't I tell you to get the Hell out?_

_            **You know, love is a rather interesting force.**_ The Virus mused, ignoring Sigma's comeback. **_Look at all the wonderful things people do for it, in the name of it…they kill, they go to war, they 'protect'. Pah. Iris here had love. And she relied on it._**

****_Why did she do that?? _Sigma asked, shaking his head. _She's dying…because she wanted to protect ME._

_            **Love is a dangerous force, my servant. **_The Virus replied coldly. **_One that your kind should learn to do without…it's too volatile, too unpredictable…and in the long run, too useless, fickle, and short to be of any true value. _**

****_But…_

_            **SIGMA. **_The Virus barked angrily. **_Time and time again, your tenacity and dogged following of the cause has made me pleased. Don't throw all that away on whimsy. Do NOT for a moment think that you can honestly return those feelings. Why should you begin now?? You know as well as I do that at most, you held nothing but a lust for her. A desire to HAVE HER. And you have. No more. She is useless to you now._**

            Sigma slowly began to feel, for him, what was normal. The Virus reasserted itself, pushing back his doubts and filling him with that same tone of superiority. The Virus was right…it was always right…

            Iris looked up at Sigma with pain clouded eyes, asking again. "Help me…"

            Finally, the Maverick King blinked out of his trance, looking down at her again. His mouth, emotionless, slowly altered itself. He knelt down beside her and brushed her hair back, shaking his head.

            "You had to do that…"

            "I can't let them hurt you…I love you…"

            "Then you were a FOOL." Sigma said coldly. He stood up, pushing his full height to bear witness upon her worthless state. "Your love was never mutual. From the beginning, Iris, I have sought only to use you."

            Stricken, the female reploid's shaking began to cease, her motor controls giving out just as he shattered her frame of reality. "What…??"

            "Iris, two years ago, Zero and I did fight. But while he did kill you, he did not intend to, and he has lived every day of his life since then in misery, trying to seek a penance he cannot give. He did love you, Iris. More than life." Sigma smiled, that sick smile of victory and supremacy over his foes. This was what he loved…the ability to do just as much damage with but a few words as his entire army could. "Your resurrection by my hands was a quirk, an experiment…a test to see how the dear Crimson Hunter would react if faced with his dead love…only now, instead of being an innocent, being one of his deadliest enemies." Sigma nodded his head, baring a row of perfect teeth. "I'm happy to report that the experiment was a success."

            Iris shut her eyes, crying now, feeling her heart break within her. Between sobs, she managed to push out one last sentence. "Why…Why in God's name would you do this??"

            "Because I can." Sigma answered simply. He looked around for a moment, then shrugged. "Iris, you will die the same way you came into this world. Alone, and in a lie. It has been…interesting, having you by my side. But I'm afraid that the weak have no place in my regime. And so now I leave you here to rot." Sigma turned about and began to walk away. "And the rest of them as well…useless. A little surprise and they all lose their cool and begin to die. This recent conflagration has proven to be an interesting experiment. But I think it's time to discard you all. My worthless, failed guinea pigs."

            "And what about your promise?!" Iris rasped in tears. "That when this was done, we would still be together?!"

            "Iris, you truly are a naïve little bitch." Sigma chuckled darkly. "All lies. My lies. The best kind…the kind that fools like you believe in."

            Sigma stopped walking and seemed to concentrate for a moment, then he vanished in a beam of warp light for the base he called home.

            Iris lay there, continuing to die, continuing to fade. But she no longer cared now, as her tears ran down her face and were sucked into the dry ground.

            She had nothing left to live for.

            The Landchaser's engine was fast running low on its fuel supply, thanks to the complex maneuvers that Gavin was forcing it through. Of course, if he hadn't been, then the Maverick known as Dolph Reach would have easily destroyed him. As it was, he was barely avoiding death anyways.

            The Maverick Dolphin moved with a fluidity in his movements and attacks that he hadn't demonstrated ever before. Bitterly, Gavin recalled what X and Zero had told the elites time in and out…the most dangerous Maverick is a Maverick in rage. And here was no exception.

            But it had to end soon. Gavin swerved his Landchaser out away from Dolph, then turned it around and faced the nose directly at his foe.

            The Maverick General stood there, hovering his plasma hands slightly in front of him, as if waiting to catch a fastball. The two stared at each other with equal rage and fury, and then Gavin tsked.

            "Live fast, die young, and leave an identifiable corpse." The Hunter muttered, altering a famous quote. He gunned the engines one last time and charged towards the final standing Maverick General.

            Dolph Reach threw out his hands, two massive punches of blistering plasma energy that he converted into pure burning force. Deftly, Gavin jumped the first, but knew the second one was coming just beyond it. He pointed the nose downwards and gunned the engines, already seeing the second punch coming in for the kill as he did. Instead of overwhelming him, it merely grazed past his shoulder and back, throwing him into a brief moment of excruciating pain before he pulled loose.

            _Made it past…_

            He landed the cycle and hit the engines again, suddenly noticing the beeping warning lights on the Landchaser's HUD…Low fuel.

            "Fuckit." Gavin growled, pushing the engine even harder.

            Dolph Reach chittered angrily and brought his hands back, one on either side of Gavin and his damnable cycle. The Hunter picked up on the motion all too readily…the Maverick planned to squash him between those plasmic palms with the force of a gorilla, ending this fight here and now.

            "WE END THIS NOW!!" Gavin called out to his opponent, leaping his Landchaser up into the air. The Maverick's eyes flared a powerful red for a moment, then he slammed his hands together.

            Synchronously, the Maverick's plasmic hands also slammed together, crumpling in on the Landchaser and tearing it apart before what was left of its fuel exploded, only the noise escaping the killing power of the attack.

            But then the Maverick's eye caught a glint of light above him…a glint that came too late. Before Dolph Reach could do more than stare and begin to open his mouth in awe, a descending Gavin had pulled out his beam saber, ignited its brilliant length, and was on him with a mighty swing.

            The Maverick had no chance to respond. In one quick motion, the Maverick Hunter had dived down and struck, the barest of 'bzzzaps' from the saber as it hit metal and burned its way through.

            Gavin landed on the ground before the head of Dolph Reach did. His saber was shut off and put away before the rest of the Maverick's body slumped forth and collapsed onto the ground, slowly beginning to shut itself down with no head to control it.

            Only then, after his foe had been eliminated did Gavin let the incredible pain take him. He finally groaned out, staring down for a moment and feeling shock overwhelm him as he stared at his mangled, bleeding and crushed leg, the only part of his body that had not cleanly survived Dolph's attack. Having little choice in the matter, he slumped forth onto his belly, hands splayed against the ground. A few of the other Hunters on foot in the area walked towards him, crying out his name in worry.

            Weakly, Gavin smiled, feeling his eyes begin to shut on him as his body began to slip into auto-stasis.

            "At least…I got him first."

            The rest of the concerned cries about him sounded like a foghorn through the ocean waves.

            Zero and X and all the others surrounding that protective barrier watched in dismay as the warp beam escaped free of the shield and soared into the sky. A few moments later, the barrier itself fell, no longer able to stay alive without the power of its master. And then a sudden silence fell…a silence, because everyone who was close felt a need to be. Sigma was gone, but he had left another.

            Some of the elites knew to some small degree of the relationship that Zero had once held with the beautiful Iris of Repliforce two years before. Now, as those same elites looked on in slight pity, but mostly wariness, they saw the same level of grief that had befallen Zero begin to reappear.

            X clutched one hand to his heart, shaking his head. "Zero…"

            Trembling, Zero walked inside where the shield had been, walking towards Iris. And he didn't care…he didn't care if this was just a copy of her, or if it was Maverick. That didn't matter. _It's still Iris…_

            "What are you doing?!" One of the unknowing Hunters cried out in shock. "Stay away from her!!" In a flash, X had dashed over to the elite and slapped him across the face as hard as he could. The Hunter reeled back, a hand reaching up to protect his face. X's seagreen eyes stared him down with a ferocity not seen in a long time.

            "Just shut up. SHUT UP. How could you possibly understand what's going on here?!"

            Trembling, Zero knelt beside Iris, trying hard not to let his eyes well up and blur from his tears.

            The female reploid looked up at him…her body scarred and torn apart, but her face, her angelic face still perfect as she faded from him. Her brown hair underneath her, she blinked a few times, tears visibly blurring everything she saw even with her efforts.

            "Who…who's there??" She asked quietly, somberly. Zero reached a finger over and brushed the tears out of her eyes for her.

            "It's me, Iris." Zero said, unable to hide the heartbreak in his voice. "Zero."

            "Zero…" Iris whispered for a long moment. Her eyes focused on him, and then began to well up in tears again. "Sigma…never loved me, but he rebuilt me anyway…to do what?? Use me?" She sobbed. "And…he's done this before, hasn't he??"

            "Too many times to count." Zero answered back, reaching down and putting his hand on top of hers over her heart. "God…Iris, you've got to hang on just a little longer, we can get you back and…"

            "NO." Iris spat out suddenly, using up more energy than she would have liked. The fire in her eyes vanished again, filled with sorrow. "Zero…I don't deserve to come back. All of this life was a lie…All of it! There's nothing of me worth saving, worth recording."

            "Iris, don't say…"

            "I'm not the Iris you knew, damnit!" Iris sobbed. Her chest began to quiver from the tears, and her eyes blurred up more. "The Iris you knew was a part of Repliforce. The Iris you knew wasn't Maverick, didn't try to kill you in cold blood for…for…"

            "But you ARE the same Iris." Zero choked out, shaking his head. "Everything before was just memories. But they don't determine your core, Iris…the thing that makes you you." He knelt down and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Iris…I fell in love with your smile and the way you went through life, not because of what group you belonged to or what you did. There is as much of the Iris from two years ago as there is in you. Just as much. And if you can't see that, then…"

            "Hush." Iris chided him, a small sad smile creeping to her face. "You tell me things I don't deserve to hear. I don't deserve…your love." She grew quieter then, a little colder to his touch. Zero's nostrils flared in horror…

            _No, it's happening again…God, not again, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN!!!_

"Zero…" Iris said again after a pause. Zero bent down closer to her, and Iris whispered into his ear. "Just once…just once, kiss me."

            And he did, his tears melding with hers in a bittersweet mixture that they shared, each tasting the other's scent and flavor. His arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her close. When they finally broke that one magical kiss, Iris looked into Zero's brilliant green eyes and smiled, a sad smile of resignation. Her gentle hand came up, on wings from her mangled arm, and brushed the side of his face, teasing the corner of his mouth.

            "Iris…" Zero choked out, unable to contain himself any longer. "Iris, don't die on me…I don't want to lose you again!!"

            The gentle brown haired siren shut her eyes, shedding the last of her tears. Her hand dropped down to her side, clutching ahold of her pink bladed beam saber and holding it up between them. Zero's hand wrapped around hers and the saber, cradling her even in her last moments.

            "Zero…you have to keep going." Iris finally said. "You can't worry about me, or the first Iris…"

            "You're the same…"

            "No…" Iris whispered, frail in his hands now. "No, we're not."

            There was silence for a moment, and then Iris slumped forth against Zero's shoulder, her mouth right by his ear.

            "Zero…" She began, softly, so softly the wind nearly blocked it out.

            "In another life…I could have loved you."

            And then Iris was dead. Again. A second time, in the hands of the man who claimed ultimate loyalty to her and her heart.

            Zero shut his eyes tightly, tears squeezing free and hitting the dusty ground below. He picked her up in his arms, his mind a jumbled sea of thoughts, emotions, pain and rage and frustration. Up above, the sun finally began to fall, bringing end to the day.

            And Zero screamed…a scream of pain and loss so deep that all around were heartbroken to hear it.

            Kazok could feel his vision beginning to go fast. His last gravicrystal lay useless on the ground beside him, no longer responding to his commands and fast approaching a point of critical overload. With sight no longer of aid to him, Kazok lay on the ground with only his hearing to alert him to coming presences.

            _URFAWP…Such a wonderful idea, such a great group of people…_

_            Only to be usurped…twisted and warped to Sigma's malevolent schemes._

_            Is that the fate of everybody who's like us…who wants to do some good in this world?? To be corrupted to evil?_

_            Jetstream…Pyre…The others…_

_            FELICITY…_

Hot tears ran down his face.

            "Felicity…" He cried out silently. "God, they've killed you too…"

            A loud footstep, loud on purpose crashed beside him. Kazok gasped and nearly cried for a familiar pawish hand stroking his face.

            "I'm not dead yet, Kaze." Dash Blade answered back softly. "You made a promise to protect us all, remember??"

            "A promise I failed…" Kazok croaked, his hand coming up and gently stroking hers.

            "And you think that's a reason to prepare yourself to die?!" Dash snapped, her hand tightening on his face. "Damnit, you stupid bastard…"

            "I lost." Kazok replied simply. "X…beat me…the better person to kill…Sigma…"

            He was nodding off. Nodding off fast. Dash could see it in his pain glazed eyes and the horrific amount of wounds over his body. She gripped his arms tightly.

            "Kazok. I want you to do something for me, and do it now." Kazok mutely looked up at her through his failing eyes. "Go into auto-stasis. Preserve yourself while you have a chance!"

            "Wouldn't…change anything…" Kazok mumbled, trying to shake his head. "Still…still failed mission…couldn't save…anyone…"

            "DO IT!!" Dash Blade screamed at him.

            Kazok seemed to tremble for a moment, and then his eyes went blank, his body falling limp. Dash held him close and supported him against her, in a tight embrace of angered protection.

            Numbly, she stared towards where Sigma had been at the start of this fight, where now the surviving Maverick Hunters were massing. Her head bobbed down beside her and Kazok, where his last gravicrystal lay flickering. Her ears flattened for a moment, and then she sighed, looking up to the sky.

            "No matter what happens, love…I'll walk with you."

            A few moments later, those Maverick Hunters who still cared watched with minor fascination as the gravicrystal exploded, radiating energies in a brilliant sphere before being sucked back into an invisible event horizon and vanishing forever.

            Signas was slowly, ever so slowly, beginning to understand why everyone around him in this place called Maverick Hunter Headquarters emphasized having emotions. He waited tensely in his chair, anticipation getting the better of him and causing him to cringe. An emotion…

            _Irritation?? _

            He shook his head. Yes, if he was capable of emotion, that was the one he was feeling right now. Nervousness, irritation…a slight bit of doubt that nagged at the back of his mind even now. That all this, this plan he'd constructed to pincer the Mavericks into the Hokkaido snare might fail.

            All of it hinged on one familiar pattern Signas had been tracing through past Uprisings…

            _When things got rough on the front lines, Sigma retreated to his home base._

            Signas hoped as much here.

            Suddenly, one of the techs in his sight of vision whooped with glee. "We got him!!" He exclaimed happily. "I've got a positive warp-lock on an outgoing signal source…not identified in Maverick Hunter Database!"

            "FOLLOW IT!" Signas snapped, taken aback a moment later by the force of his statement and the implication. He then decided he no longer cared if his voice fell into emotional tremor…it felt right to do so. Silently, he smiled. _These Hunters…They have many things they can teach me._

            The Tech's fingers soared over his console's keypads, almost a blur as the skilled tech pounded in the tracking algorithims and brought up the triangulation program.

            Slowly, the large console watching over everything shimmered to new life, bringing up a map of the world. And before the eyes of the eager Hunters in the War Room, a signal trace began.

Its course was projected, ETA calculated…and when was all said and done, a line went from Hokkaido Island to a rather large piece of land floating to the Northeast of the AmeriCanadian Alliance…

            "Destination confirmed, Signas." The Tech said with a grin. "He's headed for Greenland."

            Signas shook his head. "Sigma is indeed a cold, calculating mind…we would have never thought to look there. And if X's report from Sigma's Sixth is correct, this little outpost of his is only one of countless others built by the enslaved URFAWP workers."

            He turned to the communications officer. "Copy those warp coordinates and send them to X and Zero in the field. Let's bring this little adventure of ours to a close, eh?"

            Zero's scream finally came to a close, softer than it started but no less painful, his eyes blurred with tears and his mind a shattered mess…

            _Iris…_

_            IRIS…_

_            IRIS!!!_

            He held her body to him, tattered as it was within the black full length bodysuit that Sigma had given her to wear. He tightly shut his eyes, the water his systems had made freeing itself from his cheeks and onto her placid, cold features. Inside himself, Zero felt a pain he had felt once before…a pain that had returned at a level of power he did not think possible. And yet it was.

            She was dead…dead…

            Zero choked out another sob, collapsing to his knees as he still held her to him, pushing his face into her soft cheek and nuzzling it, disrupting even more of that lustrous brown hair she possessed.

            **_In another life…I could have loved you._**

"Iris…" Zero cried, squeezing tighter still. _God…he did this to you, why did he do this to you…_

_            You aren't a Maverick, you're not…you weren't infected with the Virus, you were just as pure now as you were then…I begged in my dreams for your forgiveness after the Final Weapon, for what I did to you and to Colonel…_

_            I loved you, Iris…more than you know, more than I ever could tell you, more than I could ever show…_

_            And he took you away from me…_

_            He…_

_            Sigma…_

            X's comm chirped, as did Zero's. But X was capable of paying attention to his, unlike his best friend, who lay as a crumpled heap of himself, ensnared around the cold body of his resurrected lover.

            "X here." The Blue Bomber of 21XX responded, lifting his wrist up to his mouth.

            _"X, this is MHHQ. Request status report."_

Mournfully, X looked around the battlefield, his sad seagreen eyes threatening to grow wet as well.

            "All Maverick Generals…are dead. So is the resurrected Iris."

            _"Signas here." _The comm replied with a squelch. _"X, we picked up an outgoing warp signal back here…the __Hokkaido__ Snare worked. We track its bearing towards the middle of nowhere in __Greenland__. We suspect this is Sigma…confirm, please."_

X's eyes darkened. "Sigma…" He bit his lip. "Yeah, that'd be him."

            Zero's heart stopped in midbeat at that moment. His tears stopped flowing, and his limbs gained a sudden stiffness to them.

            _Sigma…_

            Calmly, he put Iris's body to the ground, the pain still there, but somehow stopping its throb for a moment. That name…and the image it produced suddenly seemed to take over everything.

            And then it came. In a sudden rush, his pain was transformed into something darker, something more malignant and overwhelming…

            It surged through him, through every last one of his limbs. His fatigue vanished, and his face stretched tight over his features. Hands trembling, not from sadness but from the sheer strength in them, Zero stood back up and turned around.

            And then he opened his eyes.

            _"We believe this to be one of Sigma's 'outposts' that he rambled on about during his final moments of the Sigma's Sixth conflict about a month ago." _Signas continued. _"It should be relatively small in space, so I think that the rest of the Hunters should pull back from this one. Only you and Zero are going in on this."_

            X blinked a few times, then looked over to stare at an approaching Zero. The Blue Bomber didn't pay much attention to him…sure, he was moving at a slower pace and all, but there was a cause for that. Iris had just died. Of course he'd be crushed.

            "I'll relay that." X replied. He swiveled about and faced all the Hunters who stared at him. "Hunters, fall back to MHHQ. Prepare for debriefing…and then you all can have three days of R&R…on my authorization."

            The Hunters, weary and worn nodded their heads and vanished in countless beams of warp light. X sighed…now it was just him, Zero, and Iris's corpse.

            "Sigma." Zero said icily. "Where did he go?"

            A startled X swiveled about, taking a moment to register the somber, yet focused tone. "Oh, it's you Zero…" He shook his head. "Sigma's apparently made tracks towards one of the URFAWP built bases in Greenland."

            Zero stared back at him, his eyes not dancing in the least, but shining a pure radiating hatred. "The exact location?"

            X told him. The Crimson Hunter blinked a few times, then nodded.

            "Take Iris…go back to base."

            X blinked a few times in surprise. "What?"

            "Sigma is mine." Zero growled. "Take Iris…this time, she'll have a proper burial." The Crimson Hunter winced, almost as if he was struggling with himself to utter those few words.

            "Zero, Sigma is still at close to full strength. If we're to stand any chance of beating him, we have to do it together!"

            Zero's eyes flashed with a hidden light. Unknowingly, he clenched both fists up, still gripping Iris's saber in one. "No…X, this time he's mine."

            X sighed, beginning to become frustrated with his friend's one-track attitude. "Damnit Zero, No. I'm coming with you."

            That broke the last of Zero's patience.

            X didn't see the massive sucker punch that Zero sunk into his gut, but he did feel the excruciating pain of the experience and feel his eyes burst in dazzling lights. He coughed, gasping for air and power after such an intense blow, beginning to slump to his knees.

            Zero grabbed X by the neck and held him aloft, dangling the Hunter up in the air easily and forcing the Blue Bomber of 21XX to stare into his eyes. And when X could finally see again, what he did see caused him to stop every last bit of struggling…because Zero frightened him that much.

            His green eyes were dull now, bleeding a darkness from within that his optics betrayed. Zero's mouth curled up into a snarl, not much different from that of a snarling savage beast. And he repeated himself.

            **_"SIGMA…IS…MINE."_**

            X gulped and nodded, frightened not for himself but for what he saw in his friend. Taking X's nod as confirmation, Zero flung X behind him, causing the Blue Bomber to land by the body of Iris.

            Zero lowered his head, not bothering to look behind him as X picked himself up and tried to stop coughing long enough to speak.

            The Crimson Hunter's fists tightened a bit more.

            **_"Don't follow me."_**

            And then Zero vanished, a bolt of red headed towards the heavens.

            X shut his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart. And then he finally picked himself up and looked down at Iris for a moment…finally, he picked her up and cradled her gently in his arms.

            _Iris…what is happening to Zero??_

"X to base. Zero…Zero's gone off to fight Sigma himself."

            _DAMNIT, that hurts…_

            Wycost let out a painful cry and clutched at his chest with a free hand, knowing full well that his feeble action would mean little to nothing against a magrifle round that accurate. It had punched straight through him like a round through a tin can…then again, the Bronx Bomber realized, that was what it was designed to do.

            It didn't make him feel any less angry, though. Sluggishly, he turned about, readying his warp generator as he did. Through pain glazed eyes, he saw the Enhanced who had nailed him. The fool was reloading.

            "Oh no you don't…" Wycost growled. He lifted up his Buster and pointed it at the man. The human chuckled, his eyes crazy from something aside from confidence, then pulled the trigger.

            Wycost's warp signal easily blinked him out of reality for that mere fraction of time…that mere fraction was enough. The bullet flew on harmlessly through a cloud of loose matter and dense energy, emerging on the other side and soaring harmlessly on. The human blinked in confusion…long enough to allow the Bronx Bomber to shift back into existence and blast him away with an overcharged supershot. The human screamed as his EM shield was burned away, then vanished in the remainder of the atomizing fire.

            Wycost breathed in and out a few times, knowing all too well that last hit was going to hurt for some time yet.

            **_Internal operations energy at 65%. Take caution. Internal bleeding…wounds being sealed. Decreased energy flow capacity. _**

****"I hate magweapons." Wycost grumbled. "Messy as fuck."

            "Oh, I'll agree there." Allegro chirped, jumping back behind Wycost as his opponent charged screaming. Wycost wasted no time in switching over to his Strobe Flash and blinding the fool, then roundhouse kicking his weapon away. Allegro bashed the MI9 operative over the head, then sliced the man's legs off with a powerful twin slash. "Fuck is messy. That's why I'm glad at times I can't."

            "You're sick, ya know that?" Wycost said, unable to hide his smile.

            "And you're ruthless." Allegro agreed, turning about and staring for a target. "Or way too skilled to be just another Maverick Hunter…God, I haven't seen a faintwarp in…Well, I've NEVER seen a faintwarp!"

            "It takes a certain measure of understanding about warp physics…as well as some extensive internal modifications." Wycost explained, narrowing his eyes and unloading a Level 2 blast towards the pack of fighters messing with Doan. "Not recommended for general use. It's nearly caused the end of me a few times."

            Pharaoh Man landed beside Wycost, shaking his head. "The only other person that I've seen use that trick is the original Mega Man. I never thought I'd see such wonders again."

            "Then you gotta stop hanging with us." Wycost confirmed, charging towards Doan and the last pack of warriors. "I think you'll find, robot, we're full of surprises."

            In response, Pharaoh Man leapt overhead, landing in front of the Bronx Bomber and taking off in a backwards run towards the last of the struggling Enhanceds, smiling wryly.

            "Aren't we all?"

            At one point, there had been a strong and devoted unity between the human Jowers and the trusting Willow. A time when their attraction was true and honest, and the female reploid held love.

            Now there was just bitter memories, twisted thoughts. And a hatred that had scarred her mind and soul for what she thought to be eternity. There was a reason she was all fire and ice, the reploid thought in some corner of her fevered, combat oriented mind. That reason was the thing she was trying to destroy.

            However, Jowers was no pushover, and a nightmare worthy of his title. Still wearing that same sick grin, he controlled his beam scythe with a skill that almost made it seem as if he'd been using it the entirety of his life. Every slash Willow made with her weapon he either avoided around, or deflected and pulled away from, not letting her get the advantage of curling her weapon around his so she could pull it loose.

            He still smiled, still had that edge of superiority about him that nothing could jar out. Willow hated him for that, could feel her blood boiling as he dealt with her so casually.

            "All too quickly you regress into rage, Willow. That's not saying much for your or your kind." Jowers said flatly, jumping backwards from her dangerous lash and grinning again. "Then again, you always did have some element of animalistic ferocity to you. Perhaps that's what attracted me to you."

            Willow bit her lip, fighting off the new tears he tried to bring out of her. "You didn't love me."

            "Correct." Jowers said flatly, gauging Willow and standing tall, his scythe held easily in one hand. With his other, he twisted the lower casing…causing an elongated one and a half meter length of pole to extend from the bottom of his weapon, increasing his attack range. "If anything, I held lust for you. A lust I eventually sated, because you let me." Jowers smiled again, that same sickening grin. "Admit it. Back then, you were open. For my companionship, you would have done nearly anything."

            "If I had known what kind of monster you truly were, I would have never given you my heart!" Willow screamed, pulling her whip back and cracking it forth again.

            Jowers ducked low and shook his head.

            In a burst of speed that shouldn't have been possible for a human, Jowers weaved underneath the end of the whip's lash despite its incredible speed and powerful crack that the compacted sound waves indicated. He appeared in front of Willow, still grinning that same grin. But his new proximity, and the speed in which he'd obtained it caused the Irish Banshee to gasp in surprise as her green eyes widened in horror. She tried to pull back in time, her beam whip yanked back in an awkward attempt to attack Jowers from behind.

            "Now who's the weak one?" Jowers sneered, snapping his scythe in front of him in a fluid motion. Willow felt the sickening sound of her armor and synthflesh giving way to his blade's keen slicing edge, toned in such a way that the easiest of motions was meant to sever.

            The slash was quick and deep, but meant more to wound her than anything. Willow gasped out again from the pain, one of her arms descending down to cover the bleeding injury. Her other arm still carried the beam whip however, and it snaked back towards her yank, with Jowers standing in the way.

            Ruthlessness betraying his training, the Enhanced human kicked Willow away and whirled about from the blow, using her as leverage. The beam whip chain drew near, and Jowers merely flicked it away with an uppercut slash from his own weapon. Instead of striking him, the chain wrapped around the beam scythe's plasma blade, snaking angrily about the wrong target. Deftly, he pulled hard against the beam whip's chain, using Willow like a mace on a length of rope to swing her about. Still stunned from her last blow, the Irish Banshee could do very little except be swept away by the attack.

            Of course, the ride had a very painful end to it. Unable to defend by any degree, in too much pain to maneuver or even let go of the weapon and land gracefully, Willow was slammed hard against the wall of the Ice Beacon cavern room. More warning lights flashed inside of her mind, more pain coarsed through her. Jowers twirled his scythe about and freed his weapon from hers, then promptly knocked the chain away from himself.

            "Willow, you can fight better than that." Jowers said mutely. He looked up at her, eyes cold. "There's no fire in your attacks. You should have easily been able to see that coming. You know the power of Enhanced humans better than ANY reploid!"

            Mutely, the Irish Banshee tried to stand up from where she had collapsed on the floor. Pain was evident on her face, and her white gloved hand was now dyed a dark reddish purple from her blood. Stubbornly, her free hand clenched onto the beam whip, her fingers tightly curled around the cylinder. She managed only to stumble up to one knee, her face downcast and hidden by her wild red hair, now draping down over her eyes. Slowly, she brought her bloodstained free hand up and set it onto her knee, seeming to use every bit of willpower to do even that much.

            Jowers tsked. "Pathetic. Utterly pathetic." He brought his scythe up in both hands and prepared his dash stance. "Perhaps the Willow I knew DID die back then…and you're nothing but a hollow shell of the vibrant spirit who could push me to my limits."

            In another burst of unnatural speed, the Enhanced human flew towards Willow, his feet seemingly never touching the ground. He covered the distance easily, scythe raised high to sever her head from beautiful body.

            And it was then that her arm gauntlet, angled just so by how she rested her arm on her knee, unleashed its first plasmic round. The brilliant explosive energy shot up straight and true, slamming into Jower's exposed belly like an uncaged tiger. His EM field crackled angrily from the blazingly accurate shot, and he swore close to five maledictions before leaping away from the bolt and letting it soar on to hit the ceiling and explode in a dazzling lights display.

            Jowers covered his eyes, angrily taking note of the yellow shield gauge indicator on his wrist as he did so. _DAMNIT!!_

            When the lights from Willow's unexpected shot faded down, the Irish Banshee was standing tall again…hurt from his assault, but with her eyes shining a different tone now. The quick and easy rage was gone, the only rage Willow had shown since she had recovered her memories long before Bristol had.

            Her bloodied hand came up and brushed back her hair, the female reploid not caring that the energy carrying liquid stuck to the strands and mottled them together. In a flick of her wrist, she brought the length of her beam whip back around her. Standing at her full height, she leveled a cold, icy gaze at Jowers, her piercing green eyes not once blinking.

            The Enhanced human was taken aback for a moment as she took one step forth and finally spoke, her words precise and measured.

            "I told you. I will kill you today."

            Slowly, Jower's disbelief and frustration turned to realization…and the return of his sadistic smile.

            He twirled the beam scythe around in front of him a few times, then snapped into a defensive stance.

            "Well, well…Welcome back, Willow. I've missed you something terrible."

            Willow cracked her whip on the ground again, then charged. Jowers felt a surge of exhilaration push through him, natural adrenaline combining with the stimulants and Enhanced strength and speed of his bio-implants.

            This was the Willow he remembered…

            The Enhanced humans were skilled for a reason, Bastion recalled as his united beam staff blazed through the air in a desperate attempt to keep the MI9 agents from ending his life. Strikes came low and high, and through his own ability to maneuver his body about and contort it, as well as the saber skills honed after more than a year of dabbling with the plasma blade, Bastion did an admirable job.

            Still…that didn't change the fact that the Enhanceds were slowly pushing their way into his dueling sphere.

            _Block high…jump low, backflip the horizontal…Damnit, this is no way to win, you sandswept burrower!_

            Bastion grunted, jumping backwards against the wall and springing overhead, his staff below him as he pushed their own strikes aside. "Oh no you DON'T!!" He cried out, activating his dash thrusters. In the darkness of the room, the sudden flare of his replicated hydrogen fuel seared the Enhanced Agents' fields of vision, temporarily making them blind to the darkness they were fighting in.

            Bastion easily cleared the lot of them, twisting about in the air and landing solidly on his feet. They all rubbed at their eyes with one hand, keeping cautious ears perked up for Bastion's approach.

            Bastion narrowed his eyes.

            _Smart fellas…aren't going to attack until they have their full faculties back, but not going to let me just charge in there. Hmm…Wycost would love a situation like this. I'll have to ask later if __Bristol__ and Horn can't build me a…_

Bastion blinked a few times. It took him a moment to realize what he had said, but when it finally dawned on him, the Maverick Hunter had to shake his head. _Hmm. Guess Horn and I have patched things up a bit._ He looked down at his saber, then remembered his wings. _The guy, whether he likes it or not, has done a lot for me. And when things got crazy, it was him that Wycost turned to._

            But worrying about matters with Horn would have to come later. Right now, he still had these three to contend with. And they were recovering from the bright flash, far quicker than Bastion would have liked. He shut off his beam staff and detached the sabers, as softly as he could.

            He kept quiet, not wanting to give them an extra sensory source to enhance their chances of a true strike. Slowly, they all turned about, trying to identify his location. But with spots still glaring in their eyes and the Desert Angel making no sound, they were kept stumbling around in the darkness.

            Quietly, Bastion smiled. If he did this right, then one would be dead in seconds. If he didn't, then he would have to deal with all three again.

            _Not bad odds, eh??_

Quietly, Bastion waited, keeping both sabers in hand and tensed up. He remained perfectly still, as much a part of the darkness as the walls themselves. Angrily, the MI9 operatives stumbled about blindly, their own weapons pulsating with enough black light to further disrupt their night vision. Bastion averted his eyes and stared to the side, not wanting his own retinas to become too upset by the brilliant nightshade luminescence.

            And finally, one came close enough.

            The Enhanced human turned about slightly, his dim light revealing the barest hint of something lying in the darkness. At that moment, Bastion's sabers flickered to angry life and cross-slashed inwards…the MI9 agent didn't stand a chance, not against two sources of burning focused plasma slicing through the minimal protection of his EM field. The smell of seared, slashed flesh rose up from the doomed human, who couldn't even speak…Bastion's double slash had taken the Enhanced human's head clean off.

            As the body fell forth, Bastion snapped his own blades together into their beam staff configuration, giving himself a free hand. As the MI9 agent's body fell forth, Bastion swung his free hand down and snatched the deceased warrior's weapon, giving him a beam staff in each hand.

            All of that took less than a second to do, and the two surprised Enhanceds left alive twirled about, eyes focusing on the brilliant source of blue and purple light coming from Bastion's own weapon. The next thing they noticed was that now, it moved in synch with one of their own blades.

            "Well fellas, I thank you for the new weapon." Bastion chuckled, twirling the pair about by his sides and over his head in a display of dexterity most would have trouble matching, given the nature of his weapons.

            The lead remaining Enhanced increased the intensity and power output of his beam staff, the two blades widening a bit and humming even angrier as the black light roiled against its electromagnetic barrier. "You're going to lose the hand that's holding that weapon, reploid."

            "I'm sure." Bastion called back.

            The lights in the room suddenly kicked back on, temporarily blinding Bastion for a change. As his eyes readjusted to the light, he cursed himself.

            _Damnit, now THEY'RE using the flash trick??! I'll have to ask Horn if he can't duplicate Wycost's sunglare visor for my helmet…_

They charged at him, and Bastion scrambled to avoid the initial slashes, even with his limited sensory awareness.

            _Provided I live through this…_

            Commander Kowalski was in charge of Ice Beacon for a reason, the feverish and frantic Bristol realized. And it definitely wasn't for his ability to fill out documents in triplicate. The beam trident swung back and forth easily through the air in the MI9 leader's capable hands, deflecting Bristol's desperate slashes with ease.

            In fact, that was all that the MI9 leader was doing…just defending himself against her attacks. His smile seemed to grow wider with every failure, and his strokes more confident.

            "What, is that the best you have Bristol?" Kowalski smirked, pulling his beam trident back and catching her pink saber blade in its prongs, stopping her blow cold. With a twist of his arm, he sent Bristol sprawling to the floor, knocked off balance by the saber's dismissal. "Months out wandering the world trying to escape the Enhanced squadrons of Cleanser Units and that's the best attack you can give me??"

            Bristol struggled not to let the ring in her ears overwhelm her…not easy when on top of his voice, she was also hearing the drones of the computer voice indicating signal launch.

            **_Five minutes until…_**

            Bristol picked herself back up and gauged Kowalski, shaking her head to wash away the last of the dizziness from his reeling counterstrike.

            "You've got some decent moves, Commander…but I don't ever recall your name appearing on any Enhancement rosters."

            "I didn't need it." Kowalski growled, shaking his head. The wizened human male brushed back his thinning hair and stood taller. "I'm 100% all natural human…none of your blasted inventions in me whatsoever."

            Bristol bit her lip.

            _Perfect. I'm dealing with a melee combat expert who also happens to be a perfect marksman with ranged weaponry. BLOODY FINE._

He came towards her again, trident spinning beside him with a thin whistle. Bristol tensed her body, keeping her saber free in her right hand. No, this time she would take the offensive.

            His powerful speed boost ended with the full weight of his body being forced through his weapon and into his trident's swing, aimed straight for her skull.

            _Not today, bucko. But nice try._

            Bristol backboosted a bit, using a few precious ergs of thruster fuel for that saving span of distance from his strike. His beam trident dug into the ice floor of the cavern, flashing off the ice and sublimating it straight to steam from the intense heat.

            She took the opportunity, leaping up into the air and bringing her saber down in a vertical cut designed to end his life.

            Kowalski looked up with a knowing smile and jerked his trident free, placing the prongs directly in front of her blade.

            Once more her beam saber's length was caught in the teeth of his weapon, leaving her dangling in the air and at his mercy.

            _No…_

Kowalski harrumphed with a grin.

            "Figures. You weren't like Willow. Willow could fight. At best you could spar…Not like it matters. You came here in an attempt to stop Ice Beacon. I'm sorry to say that your pathetic attempt has failed."

            "Damn your smugness!!" Bristol snarled, pointing her boots down towards his face and preparing to ignite the thrusters once more.

            Kowalski's face lost its smile and darkened to an angry red.

            Quickly, he shut his power off, causing the trident's prongs to vanish with a sigh of resignation. Bristol fell to the ground, startled by his sudden movement. The blast from her dash thrusters came too late, managing only to burn into the ice and further melt away the floor's even and polished surface.

            Kowalski easily sidestepped the brief flash that posed a danger to him, whirling about and reigniting his beam trident's dangerous points. But he didn't strike her with his weapon…Instead, he continued through with his spin, bringing his steel toed foot up and kicking her hard to the stomach with a roundhouse, sending her flying against the wall with a brief shattering of ice shards that fell around her.

            Sparks and stars flashing in her suddenly dimmed eyes, Bristol opened her mouth in a silent scream of pain. Only then did Kowalski bound towards her still stunned form and cut a deep gash along the length of her chest armor, making it nearly useless and giving her a fair deal of external damage.

            She slumped to the ground, badly beaten and suddenly lacking the ability to move.

            Kowalski stepped back and held his trident beside him, prong points upward as if he was holding a pitchfork for a photo.

            "You were the best your race could send for its own survival??" He scoffed darkly. "You really DO deserve to perish."

            **_Three minutes until signal transfer…_**

            The warp coordinates were accurate indeed…when Zero reappeared and opened his eyes once more, he found himself standing in a dim and darkened room, with only the flickering of tiny LED lights and dark green fluorescents to indicate that the place was in use. A slow and steady hum throughout the underground structure provided a soothing background noise…or at least, it would have been soothing, under different circumstances.

            Deep inside of himself, Zero was a confused mess. He felt pain, horrendous pain gripping at him from the death of Iris and her haunting last words…And at the same time, he felt rage, a blind anger so strong that he had thrown his best friend aside, scorned X and told him to leave him alone.

            And he hadn't cared, either. What rationality was left as the blood pumped in his eardrums told Zero that there was something definitely unnatural about the state he was in. And still Zero paid no heed to it…it didn't matter.

            Slowly, he turned himself about and walked towards light. The entire underground bases' main lights were shut off, giving Zero only the luminescence of electronic blinking LEDs and minor fluorescents to guide him by sight.

            Zero didn't need his sight, though…his entire body had become a coiled spring, eager and screaming to be unleashed towards the nearest moving target. His hearing had become so sharp, the thrum of machinery in the underground URFAWP built structure was almost painful in its repetition, further maddening him. His smell was also on higher levels, allowing him to smell the room's cold and emotionless sterile state, the distinct hint of burnished metal and fresh, untarnished wiring and controls. No human had ever stepped foot in this place. That lack of…_life…_

            His touch, one of Zero Omega's most trusted sensory inputs was perhaps the most on alert. Through his boots he could feel the concrete and metal underneath him, sense the cold from the outside always threatening to seep through the lifeless floors and infect this safe abode of Sigma's with a different menace, one capable of causing lesser organisms to wither from exposure. His hands, clenched up as they were, felt the heat from his body sublimating off of him, vanishing into the open ether around him with a sigh of regret. His fingers and thumbs pressed angrily into the palm of his grip, leaving deep imprints and nearly threatening puncture.

            Zero's vision was still red, had remained so even after the warp jump using Signas's traced coordinates. If Zero had been in his right mind, the shift would have frightened him, might have knocked sense into him.

            But Zero wasn't in his right mind. And he certainly wasn't thinking clearly. Not now, perhaps not ever again. There was a pain in him, a pain caused by the loss of Iris…

            _Iris…_

            Zero exhaled in the beginnings of a gasp, the warm air of Hokkaido leaving his body and bringing in the chill reprocessed oxygen and nitrogen of Greenland as Zero's left hand clutched at his chest. A sudden tugging, a tremendous burning sensation rose within him, causing his vision to blur further into red. Almost as if blood suddenly had begun streaming down his forehead, Zero found that the world around him faded from view as memories resurfaced…painful memories.

            There was Iris…dying in his arms at the Final Weapon 2 years before. The original Iris. The one who had fought Zero because without Colonel, her systems had destabilized and her traumatized psyche had struggled to contain both her peaceful nature and her brother's warlike tones. The one…

            _The one I killed…_

            And then this one…the one killed simply for being there, for being resurrected on the side of Sigma, who had died taking a shot meant for him. The one, who only in the end, realized how much of a misled fool she had been…and who in the end, had died not wanting to be resurrected again, who held too much guilt within her soul for what had happened.

            The one…who despite her Maverick alignment, was still and without question the same Iris Zero had fallen for all those years ago.

            **_"Personally, I think you did her a favor two years ago." _**A familiar and unwelcome voice said, crackling over the underground bases' radio. **_"Iris was naïve…as naïve then as she was not ten minutes before this. In the end, Zero, it wasn't meant to be. You did the best thing for her. As I did. We showed her the truth…that love cannot exist. She foolishly held to that belief, Zero. And she died for it."_**

            "BASTARD!!" Zero screamed, bolting upright and slashing at the vox embedded in the wall. His Z-Saber came to his grip with practiced ease, slipping into his right hand as a bird might return to its nest. In a flash, the familiar curved blade ignited into life, the green and roiling plasma crashing against the electromagnetic barrier of the blades' edge.

            The voice transmitter sparked and melted, smoke boiling from the inside as it bled to a quick death. And then it was silent again.

            Zero's breathing reasserted itself, a ragged breathing that accompanied a hunched posture, like a wounded animal hiding in the corner with its fangs still bared. And with his eyes still burning the baleful red of his troubled soul and his beam saber lit and still active, that was exactly what Zero was.

            The footsteps thirty feet away were all too clear to Zero's heightened senses, and he whirled about, focusing his angry glare and attention to that spot.

            Slowly, Sigma stepped into view, still the same as he had appeared on Hokkaido. Only now…more confident, with a grin that betrayed his usual candor. It was almost as if something else aside from Sigma was smiling at Zero, and that made the Crimson Hunter shudder in horror and rage all the same.

            "Funny…I was expecting that Mega Man X would be accompanying you on this little jaunt. But, I suppose this time around, you're seeking something more than my mere demise…perhaps some vengeance, Zero??" Sigma shrugged. "That was an impressive victory today. You and the Hunters somehow managed to defeat one of the most unified teams of Mavericks I ever brought into my employ. Something tells me that something's changed back at the MHHQ…I should suspect as much, given the nature of the Hunter's strategy on Hokkaido. Who's in charge of that old and worn out peacekeeping corps now…a new class reploid going by Signas??" Sigma shrugged. "Not like it matters much. Still, the boy deserves congratulations. I wasn't expecting a tracer EM field to be erected around us there. An anti-warp field, perhaps, but a tracer…ingenious. It harkens back to the old days when Dr. Cain would piggyback Maverick battlefield transmissions to the home source." Sigma shrugged. "Too bad about Cain…I know you especially liked him, Zero. You never knew your true father, and I doubt that you would want to even if you had been given the chance. It's a tough lot, being the final bastard child of the Devil of the 21st Century, isn't it??"

            Zero said nothing in response, his body refusing to move. It was as if Sigma's words paralyzed his frame with something beyond mere physical strength. As if Zero wanted to hear it.

            "Truth be told, James T. Cain held more respect for you and Mega Man X than he did for anyone else." Sigma continued quietly. "What little human family he had died many years before, and you and X…you were always his favorites." Sigma lifted a hand up and stared into his palm. "Even me…ME, his greatest creation…in the end, he disowned me." Sigma looked at Zero, his smile vaporized for a cold and calculating stare. "And it was your fault, you know. I don't know why Wily chose to place you where you were, to keep you sleeping in that place in the southwestern United States…but when you awoke, you did so with the most malevolent of poisons ever concocted within you. When you and I first met, you fought against me with that poison aiding you. You nearly killed me then."

            Sigma swung his clenched fist against the side of the doorframe leading into the room, his eyes flashing a deep red for an instant. "YOU SHOULD HAVE."

            Zero still remained silent, breathing in and out and letting the madman have his say. Noticeably, his exhaled breath was not steamy or foggy in the least…the inside of Zero remained as cold as the outside. There was no warmth left in his bones.

            "Thanks to you, the TRUE final creation of Wily's found a new home within me." Sigma rasped. "From that day forth, I was damned with another presence beside me, becoming me…taking more and more control of who I was and…"

            Sigma's voice trailed off, and Zero finally spoke, his voice low and bitter.

            "You deserved the madness." The Crimson Hunter said, his body rigidly still.

            Sigma laughed, a coarse and hollow one. "I DID?!" He calmed down some, then shook his head. "No…This tangent solves nothing now. Nothing can change what happened thirteen years ago. I became you…the carrier of the Maverick Virus. And you…you became what I was. Sigma's favorite 'son'. The one he looked to and trusted to protect his life, the one in who he saw the skills of a warrior. He saw that in me once, Zero. And you and Wily took that from me. Even now, you and this VIRUS continue to rob me of everything I hold dear."

            At that, Sigma paused, then stood taller, the crazed bitterness in his voice fading easily. And he smiled again, once more the man in control.

            "And so…I have now taken everything you hold dear."

            Zero could feel the same swelling pain within him, growing faster and faster, beyond his ability to keep in check. And yet he still did not move, now so overwhelmed by it that he could not.

            "Yes…If I can no longer be happy, then neither can you." Sigma chuckled, his malevolence seeming to radiate and burn the walls. "James Cain…dead. Iris…dead. I took her from you too, Zero."

            "You're a _MONSTER._" Zero bellowed, his green eyes growing darker, turning olive green.

            "I am what life and fate have made me…Nothing more." Sigma answered back, still grinning. "The cause of it all, Zero…A year ago, I showed you the cause of all of this. The Maverick Uprisings, the Maverick Virus, all those years of turmoil and suffering and endless, meaningless wars and battles…You know what the cause is."

            "Shut up." Zero barked bitterly.

            "It's like fighting the inevitable, you know??" Sigma chuckled, his voice destabilizing. "Destiny, almost. From the moment you were created, you had but one purpose. To transfer Wily's dark grasp on the world into the next age…our age, the age of reploids. If you had never arrived, never woken up, then Earth and the reploid race and humanity would remain on a steady course. In all likelihood, I would still be leading the Maverick Hunters…And X would still be a pacifist. And yet, because you arrived, all the roles and rules were changed. In today's world, it is you and Mega Man X that play the heroes on stage, and it is I who is the villain."

            Sigma took a few steps towards Zero, chuckling harder. "It seems at times, the old adage 'the devil made me do it' can still apply."

            Sigma stopped twenty feet away from Zero and lifted a hand up, pointing at the Crimson Hunter. "If you want to end the Maverick menace, begin with yourself, Zero Omega. It was from you that it all began. As long as you live…as long as you refuse to die, neither will this war." Sigma laughed at that. "Yes, that's absolutely right, my Crimson Hunter!! Everyone shall suffer, and everyone will one day die…because YOU DID NOT!!!"

            "DAMN YOU!!!" Zero screamed, pointing his saber at Sigma. "I'm a Maverick Hunter, not a saint! I can't change who I am…NOBODY CAN!"

            Sigma snorted. "And so what?? You think that being a Maverick Hunter somehow allows you to atone for your sins?" He pointed at the glowing green saber in Zero's grasp. "Even that was once mine…And you ended up stealing that as well." Sigma pulled his arm back and shook his head. "You still don't get it, Zero. We cannot defy the goals destiny gives us. And yet you struggle so adamantly against yours, I don't know whether to call it laughable or worth merit. A year ago, you fought that impulse…and you lost to it. For a few brief and glorious moments, you became the individual you were always meant to be. The great destroyer, Zero…the destroyer of reploids."

            "Nobody determines what sort of a life we lead…" Zero shouted back, feeling control slipping fast. "NOBODY!! We live how we WANT to live, and we die the same way! You've died as a monster so many times…don't play the innocent card on me, and don't expect me to buy into your sob story!!"

            "Oh, I wasn't expecting sympathy." Sigma said mirthlessly. "I deserve as much sympathy as you do…NONE." He thought for a moment, then chuckled. "Amazing…thirteen years. Is that how long it's been since we started our little dance of doom? You, me, and Mega Man X?? Thirteen years, countless Maverick Uprisings and so many more numerous other encounters…you would think that in more than a decade of life lived to such extremes, we would know more than we do. But we don't…We're all more confused now than we ever were. Or at least, you are."

            Zero roared, hurling himself at Sigma with his saber flashing out in a blistering series of strikes. Sigma tsked and popped his own plasma weaponry, the plasma dagger   installed into one of his arms. Using his larger body mass, he easily deflected the strike and Zero himself, throwing the smaller combatant back to the direction he came from, crashing him through the doorframe and into the next room.

            Zero could feel the pain running through him, a deep and thick pain that blotted out everything else and left him with white noise running across his field of vision. And his rage…the rage grew deeper now, the pulse in his ears now more like a rush, a swelling roar of blood that consumed him.

            He pulled himself to his feet, wincing as his left arm dragged beside him. He stared down at his appendage numbly, seeing the torn armor and exposed wiring, yet refusing to give into the injury. Even as the blood vessels in his shattered elbow spurted out their last ergs of blood before sealing themselves and ceasing functionality of his left hand, turning it into little more than dead weight, Zero remained enraged, fully capable of destruction. He stepped out of what he had crashed into…a synthesizing tubule meant for rapid reploid construction, the viscous and glowing green matter rich liquid dribbling off of his body and onto the floor. In the dim red lighting of the room, however…it almost seemed as if Zero was covered from head to toe in blood.

            Staring up through dull eyes, the Crimson Hunter locked onto Sigma's presence. The Maverick King calmly walked into the room, his own weapon still active. He looked over at Zero, the Crimson Hunter slouched to one side with his nonfunctioning left arm and his right doggedly holding onto his saber.

            "But I have learned something, Zero. I've learned something about myself and my reasons for fighting." Sigma continued, popping his other arm's weapon, the TitaniTefloAlloy claws. He held both sets of slashing equipment in front of his eyes, staring at Zero through criss-crossed veins. "I fight…because that is all that is left to me. I fight because it is the only thing that motivates my reason for existence. It defines me now, as it defines you. Zero…if you were not the Crimson Hunter, the bane of Mavericks everywhere…would you have a reason for existence?? And even before that, when you were still being built, and in your early days of life…your reason for existence then was still to fight. From the moment that Wily conceived of you in his head, your sole purpose in life has been for combat…for the battle, for the bloodshed, and for the DESTRUCTION."

            "Then I choose to fight you." Zero snapped back, hazy tears further blurring his vision. "For what you have done, you can never be forgiven…you took so many innocent lives, you've ruined millions of others, and you turned this world into a WARZONE!!"

            "Oh, don't play the righteous card on me." Sigma snapped. "Don't you even dare begin to think you have the right to use that. You are as guilty as me, Zero. Your hands are just as covered in the blood of the innocents as mine are." Sigma pointed. "The blood on your hands is the most severe of any left alive in this day and age, you see. You carry not only your own sins, but the sins of your father, and the sins of all the infected Mavericks that descend from your impure lineage. For every injust act that a Maverick has committed, you hold that same sin on yourself TENFOLD."

            "And yet I still fight you." Zero shouted. "Explain THAT. Why, if not for everyone else, WHY DO I FIGHT YOU?!"

            Sigma smiled, shaking his head.

            "Deluded fool…You still don't get it."

            Sigma took a step back and waved his TitaniTefloAlloy claws around the room, motioning to the rows of stasis tubules with their regenerative green liquid cores. "You fight because that is all you know, and all that you were meant for."

            "There's more to it than that, Sigma." Zero said evenly, his voice as razor sharp as his blade.

            Sigma harrumphed with another sick grin.

            "I suppose there is. But I know that one as well…father."

            Sigma took another step back and forced his smile to return to a toothy grin. "You fight also for your emotions. In the end, that is your strongest weapon. Your rage, your grief, your anger…truly felt, I assure you. But it is through suffering, the suffering of others and of yourself…that you derive your power." Sigma slowly nodded his head. "Fighting only begets more fighting, I've discovered. Each time you and X have defeated me, I've returned from the grave, prisoner to the very thing that keeps my consciousness alive because I have not WON. And each time I come back, I cause more pain to others, I learn new ways to fight you…and I come closer and closer to my ultimate goal, Zero. One day, I will finally crush you. But…you wanted to know. Why is it that you fight?"

            Sigma pointed at Zero. "You've felt it…I know you have. Despite the fact that with X's help, you managed to "self-delete" the Virus a year ago from your systems, you have felt it. That strength swelling up inside of you." Sigma grinned. "You can't escape it. Try as you might, you cannot escape what you are. Do you know why you fight, Zero?? It is because FIGHTING MAKES YOU STRONGER."

            "Strong enough to defeat YOU!!" Zero screamed, lunging towards Sigma.

            The Maverick King readied himself and grinned.

            "No…only X can defeat me. The Demon cannot destroy the Fallen Angel. You, Zero…one day, you will become strong enough to defeat YOURSELF. That darkness will win…And then my existence as the most hated Maverick of all time will fade…because you will take my place."

            Zero impacted with a scream, his saber crashing upwards against Sigma's plasma blade. The Maverick King swung down with his TitaniTefloAlloy claws, yet hit open air. To Sigma's surprise, Zero lunged to the side, cleared his punch, and then leapt up with a solid bootkick to the jaw. As Sigma stumbled backwards, Zero leveled a deep gash along Sigma's leg.

            Both landed easily from the brief collision, but now Sigma bled. The Maverick King blinked a few times, staring in wonder at Zero.

            The Crimson Hunter's eyes flickered now…roiling with their usual green color, but at times flashing with a tint and dimness of something far darker. And his eyes continued to shed water.

            "You DARE to tell me I'm a damned soul?" Zero asked quietly, raising his gaze from the ground and staring into Sigma's eyes. "I know who I am, and I know what I was…It doesn't mean that I'll return to that.'

            "You did once."

            "You FORCED ME ONCE." Zero croaked, still crying through his hazy red vision. "Even now, I can see it happening again…that desperate rage clawing at the inside of my head, urging me on…You're still trying to convert me, and for that I DESPISE YOU." Zero took an unsteady step forth, his left arm still hanging limply. "You have your madness, but you have no clue as to how deep MINE runs, do you?!"

            Sigma prepared his stance, but for a change seemed to be concerned, not assured. Zero's mouth twinged, in a blend of teary weeping and frustrated glare.

            "When I fight an opponent, I ALWAYS feel it calling me. That lulling red bloodlust, trying to cloud my vision, take over, soothe me in its dreams of blood and screams and exhilarating murder. I dealt with that LONG before you ever tried to reinfect me. And I HATE IT."

            "Trying to deny who you are…I pity you." Sigma tsked. Zero's eyes flashed again, and his grip tightened on his saber.

            "Pity yourself, Sigma. You are the most pathetic person to ever walk this planet. And I will kill you."

            "Heh!" Sigma chuckled. "Fine, go right ahead. Drive yourself deeper into that red madness."

            Zero seemed to hiccough, the closest thing to a sob he had done since he arrived at Sigma's hidden URFAWP built base.

            "If I go mad in killing you, so be it. For Iris…For Cain…For X…For Repliforce, for URFAWP, for Doppler and EVERYONE ELSE…I WILL _KILL **YOU!!!"**_

            At that moment, as he screamed that, something else shifted in Zero. The last of his tears faded from his face, and his eyes hardened again. And then his voice changed…the intelligence seemed to fade from his statement, replaced by pure animal fury.

            And at that, Sigma's smile faded, completely wiped off this time. Now there was only surprise.

            And as Zero charged at him, screaming like the banshee itself, Sigma felt familiar, nightmarish memories surfacing…

            Memories of 13 years before, when he and Zero had first fought…

            And then Sigma was afraid. Because…

            _He's…the same…._

            A measurement of their weapons would indicate that Jowers was better suited for a close range combat and that Willow's choice of offensive power was meant for a more ranged battle. Despite that, the two warriors dueling in the depths of Ice Beacon heeded no sense of common logic in their fight. Their weapons struck at each other with such intensity that showers of free electrons jumped angrily away from their source, clouds falling together and sparking on the ice before fizzling out of life.

            Willow was screaming now, pushing herself beyond all normal bounds. Running on desperation, on fury, and on the pain that Jowers had inflicted, she fought with both mind and body acting as one. Never before had Willow ever pushed herself so hard, battled with such intensity. Now…now, she had nothing to hold back, nothing to keep in reserve. One way or another, the Irish Banshee thought in the depths of her bitter spirit, it was going to end here today. She had nothing left to live for, not anymore. Her purpose had been to keep running from MI9, to protect Bristol…Well, she had failed on both counts. And now she had done all she could…helped the foolish friends of Bristol locate MI9's project Ice Beacon. Bastion and Bristol had charged on ahead to deal with shutting down the shield emitter, leaving Willow behind.

            There was nothing more to do. The conclusion of her tasks, of her existence…ended here. With Jowers. Once she had destroyed him, avenged her pain, then nothing else mattered. Nothing…

            Jowers, even back in training had been more than a match for Willow's dueling skills. Early on in their duel, he had flexed his superiority over her and proven himself the better. But now…

            Now, there was something different in how she fought. She wasn't just doing this to buy Bristol and that male reploid time, no. There was a fury in her blows all her own, beyond mere distraction and time. Jowers had sought to awaken her true fighting potential, more out of boredom than any other factor…now, as he saw the results of that experiment, he began to wonder if his choice had been a correct one.

            The Enhanced human cursed angrily, bringing his beam scythe up and pushing away her strike with his curved blade…as best as he could, anyway. He merely blunted the whiplash impact of it, then stepped to the side and pulled his weapon free of the curl her whip began.

            That was perhaps one of his few chances to strike…when her weapon was extended and unable to coil around him like the writhing form of a snake.

            Jowers grinned, leaping forth towards her with his scythe ready to end her life. Of course, he had no doubt that she would easily evade him…Willow was far from a pushover, especially now that she was running on pure desperation.

            **_"Two minutes and thirty seconds until signal transfer…"_**

            Willow's eyes flashed with an even brighter intensity at the new communication that echoed through the hall. Despite himself, Jowers laughed. Willow merely leveled an arm gauntlet at him and fired one of her three remaining plasmic rounds at near point blank range. The Enhanced human's eyes widened for a moment, but he forced his body into a rapid descent, cringing as the sparks trailing the bright incendiary burned against his neck…sparing his life for the moment. Willow took the opportunity to easily evade his blunted attack with a dodge to the side, throwing in a powerful roundhouse kick for good measure that Jowers managed to decrease only by thrusting his arm down to protect his abdomen. Still, the hit sent him flying across the room and skidding to a halt.

            Willow relaxed her stance and pulled her beam whip back, readying another strike.

            "Figures…I see you've undergone some other modifications."

            "Subcutaneous metallic armor implants." Jowers agreed with a grin, flexing his sore arm as he picked himself up off of the ground. It didn't help that shards of the ceiling ice had decided to crash down on top of him…shards blown off by Willow's haphazard plasmic explosive blast. "Not as much subcutaneous armor implants as much as they removed the skin from my arm and covered it with a shifting interconnected set of metal plates, then plastered synthskin over it all to make me feel better."

            "Oh, you poor boy." Willow snarled, extending out her whip once more towards him. Jowers scrambled to duck underneath the fast blow and slide out of its retreat path before glaring at Willow again. Her eyes remained cold as she easily readied herself for another strike. "I imagine that whatever Hell they put you through to make you a more dangerous reploid Hunter wasn't nearly as painful as it should have been."

            "Typical response from you." Jowers snapped back, taking the offensive once more. "Loud, bitter, and utterly USELESS!!"

            Willow's whip cracked out again in an attempt to stop his progress, but Jowers moved at a speed not to be denied or stopped. He easily ducked underneath the dangerous first wave, sliding along the icy floor before leaping up and clearing her weapon's reach entirely. He seemed to hover in the air for a moment, grinning down at her as he raised his scythe above and slightly to the side of his head, preparing for the final harvest.

            In desperation, Willow lifted her other arm and readied her next to last plasmic round.

            "Not this time, WILLOW!!" Jowers cackled, depressing a switch on the side of his beam scythe he hadn't pressed yet. As he swung the blade down, it exploded in size, the length and swath of the dangerous plasma weapon dwarfing him in size…and easily clearing the distance in the air between them.

            A startled Willow could only curse and activate her dash thrusters, forcing herself backwards in a sudden retreat. His beam scythe crashed down into the icy floor beneath them, kicking up even more steam and leaving a jagged hole in front of where Jowers landed. Just after impact, his beam scythe retracted to its normal size…But the human didn't stop, taking only a moment from his landing to jump kick himself off of the ground and towards Willow once more. In desperation, she raised her same arm gauntlet and fired…both rounds at once, the last of her ammunition.

            "Nice try, but NO LUCK!!" Jowers bellowed, easily weaving his way around both blasts as he still kept coming towards her. Now no longer a threat to Jowers, Willow's final two plasmic explosive rounds soared on and crashed into the wall of the room, scattering their deadly charges unevenly along its surface and leaving a series of deep ravines and jagged peaks rising from the once flat surface of frozen water.

            Willow's eyes widened at Jower's incredible approach, and she pulled her beam whip in close, grasping it halfway along its length with her other hand, treating it now as a defensive barrier instead of an offensive weapon.

            Slowly, Jowers bombarded her with furious slashes from his beam scythe, blows that the Irish Banshee was hard pressed to avoid or defend against either way. So focused on defense was Willow that she didn't see Jowers moving her about her position, pushing her closer and closer to the jagged hole left by his beam scythe's brief, but dazzling extension.

            That is…she didn't see it until it was too late. Taking another step back to avoid a slash she had no way to defend against, Willow's left foot slipped along the artificial hole in the floor, causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards, her face recoiling in shock and horror.

            At that moment, Jowers wore an expression of pure satisfaction. And then, in that one moment of weakness in her defense, as she fell backwards with no balance and no way to block, he struck. His beam scythe came up from below, the curved edge following the point through her abdomen and up and out of her back, narrowly skating the edge of where her microfusion generator lay.

            A splash of blood, not dull purple but bright red flew from Willow's sudden injury and flung itself onto his clothes. Bright red for a reason…in Willow's heightened state of combat, the energy demands of her body had forced her bloodstream to absorb more energy for distribution, much like a human's blood turned bright red when it became super-oxygenated.

            She gasped in pain even before she felt that sudden sharp pain slam through her, violating her entire body with waves of horrendous, white mind numbing internal screams. Countless warning and error messages flashed in the corner of her eyes, informing her of all the systems that one single thrust had destroyed and mutilated.

            **_Internal operations energy at 32%. Extensive internal damage. Unless stasis is achieved within next five minutes, risk of serious system injury exists._**

            Willow could feel her body already begin to shut down on her. Even as the supremely confident Jowers grabbed her shoulder and pulled her body close to his, his beam scythe still rammed through her, her arms went numb and sluggish from the system shock, and she lost her grip on her beam whip. The devastatingly effective, but unorthodox weapon shut itself off with no master to hold it, and not long after the TitaniTefloAlloy links retracted into their casing.

            Willow's vision began to blur on her as well then, focusing in and out on her surroundings as it struggled to maintain optimum performance in her critically injured state.

            Jowers laughed quietly beside her ear, his warm and moist human breath scratching against her sensitive hearing.

            "Well, Willow…Do you hear that sound??"

            Willow groaned a bit, but said nothing. All she could hear was the painful sound of his breathing, and the superiority that shone through his voice. He had dealt her a critical blow, had won the duel…

            _No…can't end like this…_

            "That, Willow…is the sound of the reaper."

            Willow said nothing in reply, instead choosing as delicately as possible to suck in the outside air to help her microfusion generator cope with the sudden damage to her systems. It did little, but it passed the time. Jowers remained content to just hold her there, keeping the beam scythe embedded in her as her lifeblood drained out of her. In fact, he even began to hum and pull her closer still, as a father might hold a child that had a nightmare.

            Willow squinted her eyes shut, letting a single tear roll out from her right eye.

            God, he'd always done that…Whenever she was afraid, or when she got upset, he would pull her close, console her, soothe her fears away with that whimsical attitude and ability. And now…now, when she knew what Jowers truly was, she realized how hollow those actions had been back then. And how hollow, ironic, and hurtful those same actions were now.

            "You claimed the right to end my life." Jowers mused, running a hand through her hair, stroking the silken strands of red away from her face. "Only fitting…that I should have the same opportunity to silence yours."

            **_"Two minutes until signal transfer…"_**

            "Willow, I'm almost sad to see you go. You and I, we were great together…especially now in combat, my GOODNESS. I haven't felt this exhilarated since our early training sessions. You really did give it your all, didn't you?"

            Slowly, Willow lifted her head up, staring over Jower's shoulder and behind him. She blinked a few times, staring numbly at the wall behind him.

            "At least this way Willow, you die with honor…and not at the hands of all the reploid hunters that will follow after Ice Beacon launches." Jowers finished quietly. "Only I could give you that."

            "Jowers…" Willow groaned quietly. The Enhanced human bobbed his head, then pulled back a ways to stare at her.

            "Yes?"

            Through eyes that continued to fade, and a spirit that bordered on vanishing for all eternity, Willow looked into Jowers' eyes…the eyes of the man she once loved.

            "That…armor of yours…is it everywhere on you?"

            Jowers shook his head and stroked her hair again.

            "I'm sorry, Willow…just my arms."

            She seemed to exhale her life's breath out of her then, letting her head collapse onto his chest. Clucking gently, Jowers stroked her hair a few more times, thinking it finally over. But he froze everything when Willow finally spoke again.

            "Pity."

            Jowers had no time to respond and no way to defend from Willow's tactic. As he held her there, her head pressed against his chest and his arms inextricably surrounding her, she disengaged the safeties on her dash thrusters and set them to maximum burn.

            In less than a second's time, not even enough for Jowers to let off a decent scream, she had flung him and herself across the room and embedded him into the wall…

            The same section of wall her plasmic rounds had transformed into a surface of jagged death.

            His EM field didn't know how to cope with such an intrusion, so it didn't. The Enhanced human known as Jowers cried out in gurgling tones and gushing bright red blood from his punctured lungs, spasming on the jagged daggers of ice Willow had pushed him onto. No protection, no amount of clothes on his body could defend him from the blow. And so Jowers was doomed. He felt the air, his precious lifegiving substance leave his body, now unable to return. And he struggled even more, wasting away his life in a scrambling futile attempt to live.

            Slowly, Willow pulled herself off of him, willing her sluggish and dying body to separate herself from his wasted form. And she looked into his eyes again.

            "You were mine to kill, Jowers."

            He gurgled in reply, more frothing bright red blood seeping from his mouth and over his lips, dripping down his chin and onto his tattered clothes. A few seconds later, his body finally gave out…his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and the empty husk that had been Jowers, MI9 Enhanced reploid hunter sank deeper onto his deathtrap.

            Jower's beam scythe finally shut off, the plasma blade vanishing and retracting out of Willow's body. The reploid swayed back and forth in a rhythmic, disoriented motion before finally collapsing backwards herself onto the icy floor.

            Even through her own pain, Willow smiled. And she cried again. This time…in relief, and in contentment.

            "So it's over with…it's finally over with…"

            Willow shut her eyes and let her head fall to the side, giving into the need to fall into oblivion.

            _Bristol__…It's all up to you now._

_            Now…I can finally rest._

            _Time…was never enough time…_

_            That nightmare I had, what has happened is different from it at points, but…_

Bristol lay against the wall of the shield emitter control room, still wounded from the furious and blazing battle prowess of Kowalski, the MI9 chief of operations at Ice Beacon. What made her loss all the harder to swallow was that he was not an Enhanced human…just a normally trained and raised man of the gun and sword who had been in combat throughout his life.

            And she had lost…She was no match for Kowalski, she had never been a match for ANYONE in a fight…Her role had always been as a scientist, a person aligned with dreams and notions and ideas and the need to create.

            _I failed…Gods, Isaiah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I failed…_

"Truth be told, I thought for a moment that you and your ragtag band of revolutionaries out there might actually stand a chance." Kowalski murmured, standing a fair distance from Bristol and letting the time to countdown dwindle. "By some miracle, your friends managed to free you from MI9 HQ…at the same time, destroying our main base. And then you got here." Kowalski harrumphed. "It must have been Willow who divulged the location of Ice Beacon out of the HQ's computer systems. She's the only other person with enough skill to accomplish such an act. Those coordinates were accurate, all right…accurate enough to allow you an air drop."

            Bristol groaned, her body shaking as she tried to rise to her feet and failed miserably. Her bright blue eyes began to grow dimmer, a mixture of pain and self resignation.

            "Still, none of you were expecting a solid state EM field to be erected around the transmission dish, were you?" Kowalski continued, eyeing Bristol carefully. As long as she posed no threat, he was content to continue with his rant. Once she moved, however…

            "That blew a hole in your attack plan right there, didn't it?" Kowalski asked, starting up again. "You were expecting an easy, straight out assault…a pure hit and run, almost. That field changed everything. So your forces split. As we speak, the bulk of the Enhanced humans on base are dealing with your surface bound allies…I'm sorry to say it looks rather bleak for them. Especially that green armored reploid…"

            "No…" Bristol groaned, her head lolling back and forth. _Wycost…no…_

            "And two others entered the depths of Ice Beacon along with you. Willow, I know…she and Jowers were dueling not but moments ago. As a matter of fact…"

            Kowalski paused and brought up a datapadd, clicking a few buttons as if accessing a live video feed. He stared at the display and blinked a few times, then harrumphed. "It seems as if those two managed to kill each other. Although I give Willow points for originality on hers."

            _NO…Not Willow too…NOT __WILLOW__!!!_

            "Which leaves just that male brown haired reploid. And I'm afraid he has received the glory of being sucked into a final duel with three of the best I have on this base. He'll fare no better than anyone else would in such a scenario." Kowalski tucked the datapadd away and grinned at Bristol.

            "Which leaves…you. Just you, Bristol." Kowalski brushed back his hair. "You were so close, too." He waved his hand around the room. "In here lies the key to it all, the key to your success. We have backup computers in the double digits throughout Ice Beacon, all capable of transmitting the UBF around the world through the satellite networks that have existed since the 20th century. So your only way to win was to destroy the transmitter itself…that massive, finely crafted dish honed from the ice of Antarctica. And to do that, you had to destroy the EM shield surrounding it, protecting it in a blanketed cradle from your guns and weapons."

            _Failed…I failed everyone…_

            "You have failed, Bristol. Despite all your panache, all your idealism and dreams of grandeur for your race, you and your cohorts have failed."

            **_"One minute and 40 seconds until signal transfer…"_**

            Beyond hope, Bristol looked up to Kowalski. Her eyes locked onto him, but revealed nothing, showing the emptiness inside of her that nothing could penetrate, nothing could break.

            _So it's over…despite everything that everyone has done, it's over. I was with them, and we have still failed._

_            I…_

_            Changed nothing…_

            Kowalski sighed and pulled his beam trident up, aiming his final thrust at her. "And now, all that remains is for me to wrap up this final loose end."

            And he thrust down to Bristol's torso…and she shut her eyes, waiting for that brief flash of pain to come.

            _Bastion…Forgive me._

            The Maverick Hunters took about two minutes to all warp back to base. That wasn't that great of a time, but seeing as more than a handful were in dire need of immediate medical attention, that fact was ignored. While those in critical condition were rushed to Hazil and the home medics to the Emergency Room, a separate entity all its own from the more gentile and homely Medical Bay that Hazil resided at, the grimfaced and now thin lipped Signas found his way to X.

            The Blue Bomber turned about, trying to make sense of who had located him out of the mess in front of his eyes. And then he saw Signas, standing erect and, for him at least, livid.

            "In Cain's office." Signas murmured, still paying homage to the man who he had been ordered to replace. "NOW." X felt his heart drop even farther. He already knew what Signas wanted to talk about, and it was an issue that X wasn't that keen on at the moment.

            He took one last look around the War Room he had arrived in, taking note of all the monitors and stats running by. The damage report, the death tolls…All there. And above, a mission synopsis of the events on Hokkaido. It read as a success.

            _That should read as a tragedy_.

            Sighing once, X pulled off his trademark blue helmet and let his cramped black hair free. He ruffled the spiky black length about to fluff it some, then turned and walked after Signas, helmet in hand.

            Neither person said anything as they walked into Cain's office, both enmeshed in their own worlds of tension and unfocused on the other person's.

            Cain's office still had the same blue lighting, X noticed. That hadn't changed. Slowly, Signas walked about and sat in the reclining leather chair that Cain had sat in so many times in life…had gotten drunk in far more, the Blue Bomber of 21XX recalled with a slight bit of humor. He motioned for X to sit down, and only after X had sat down and put his helmet on the desk did Signas finally clear his throat.

            "I've put the room back in order…it occurs to me now that there is a certain amount of nostalgia present here, and that changing anything would not help my still foundering relations with the rest of the Maverick Hunters on base." Signas turned and motioned towards the spot where Sigma II had always swam. "And if you get the chance, as I imagine you will, ask Hazil if he would be willing to bring Cain's goldfish back."

            X shook his head. "Do you know the story behind that goldfish, Signas?"

            Signas's stony silence was a very clear no to that. X sighed. "Remind me to tell you it sometime when we have more time. But yes, when I see Hazil, I'll mention it."

            Signas sighed and took his own hat off, setting it beside X's. X was surprised to see that Signas had a low cut head of corn blond hair on his head underneath that hat of his. "The operation was a success, X. The first wave of Hunters distracted the Mavericks as well as Sigma…and when the second wave arrived, the Mavericks responded in panic and discord. Just as planned…we needed only to shatter their sense of superiority and unity."

            X lowered his head a bit at that and said nothing.

            _We won…but at a great cost, Signas. Not one you would understand._

            "What concerns me is what happened after Sigma took the bait and retreated." Signas continued, flexing his knuckles. His eyes became hard again. "Tell me, X…why is it that Zero would endanger the most crucial part of the mission, going after Sigma and destroying his base, by not taking you with him?? And why is it that you let that stop you? You had the coordinates as well." Signas leaned in closer towards X, setting his elbows on the desk. "X, the actions taken after the fall of the last Maverick Generals were irrational ones. Ones that demand explanation."

            Calmly, X lifted his head up and stared at Signas.

            "You don't understand what makes us the way we are…so I'll enlighten you." X leaned in towards the desk as well, letting his own weary eyes sharpen. "But you need a healthy dose of acceptance on your end, all right?"

            Signas nodded.

            "All right then." X chirped sharply. "Just days before, Zero suffered a horrendous blow to his psyche. One of the Mavericks Sigma had out on that field was a repeat…a female reploid named Iris. If that name doesn't ring a bell inside of that head of yours, I'll give you a hint; REPLIFORCE."

            Signas did catch the drift…the mention of Repliforce snapped in very clearly what had happened.

            "Iris was one of Repliforces' Maverick Hunter liason officers, wasn't she?"

            "She spent some time acting as a spotter for Zero and I during the Erasure Incident. But that's not what put Zero into a fit of depression."

            "Iris died at the end of the Fourth Maverick Uprising, didn't she?" Signas surmised quietly.

            "She was killed." X answered, lowering his head. "And though I've never gotten him to completely explain to me just what happened on the Final Weapon, I do know that to some degree, Zero was responsible for her passing. Seeing her again, seeing her now…It tore him apart. He's never forgiven himself for what happened to her, even to this very day. And after what happened out there today, that pain isn't going away."

            "He must have valued her friendship very much." Signas guessed.

            X smiled sadly. "No…more than that, Signas. He loved her."

            The silence enveloped them both again for several more seconds. Signas absorbed the news as best as he could, trying to maintain his emotionless expression. X noticed he was failing.

            "It's all right to feel sympathy for him." X added. "Lord knows I end up praying for his healing every other day. The guy's been through Hell and back, Signas. Hell and back, in more ways than you could ever dream of."

            "So why didn't he quit??" Signas asked. "If the fall of Repliforce and the guilt of Iris's death was so severe, why didn't he quit? Lesser reploids might even commit suicide from such a traumatic event."

            "Zero can't." X replied sadly. "He can't quit and he can't die. Three reasons. One is because of me…as long as I'm stuck here, so is he. No matter how bad the pain gets. Two, fighting is all he knows. It's all he can do, and it's the only thing that provides any sort of meaning in his life. If he resigned as a Hunter, he'd have no reason to live…and because so many people rely on us, he can't quit."

            "And the third reason?"

            "The third…" X began, then thought for a moment. "The third…has to be Sigma." He looked up. "And right now, that is the most important reason that is guiding his actions. Sigma." Signas nodded, waiting for X to continue. The Blue Bomber of 21XX waited a few moments, but finally did again. "We have fought against Sigma for 13 years now…more than a decade, Sigma has been fighting this stupid war against humanity and against the Maverick Hunters. And at times, I wonder if he continues it not for any lofty and ambitious goals…but merely because Zero and I are standing on the other side of the field."

            Signas blinked. "Like a feud?"

            "A vendetta might be more appropriate." X answered back. "And now…"

            He stared off beyond Signas, towards the window to the open world and the fading sunset. "Now, it might all end tonight."

            X tapped the side of his arm.

            "I could have gone, yes…but it wouldn't have been right, Signas. This is Zero's battle, and he was clear on that. There have been times I've had to face Sigma by myself…times I WANTED to face Sigma by myself. Zero deserves his chance as well."

            "But will he be able to do it himself??" Signas pressed. "This is Sigma we're talking about…and his new incarnation seemed especially dangerous."

            "There's one part of the formula of a warrior that you don't understand, Signas." X replied, finding it harder and harder to speak. It wasn't fear that leaked into his voice, but worry and concern. For Zero. "Emotion…I know that you're just now beginning to understand it, so I'll explain it as best as I can. There comes a time for a warrior when he is out there…that something happens. He snaps, loses it…loses all doubts, all fears, all restraints. All he sees is the enemy in front of him through a hazy line of sight. Rage. The rage of a warrior, Signas…fueled by emotion, driven by desperation and anguish. I've felt it myself, more times than I care to know. Each time I face it, it grows harder and harder to return from that state, more painful to do so." X looked across the table at Signas. "Zero is by far, a more capable fighter than I am. But he rarely taps into his true potential, whereas I'm forced to. He doesn't NEED that extra layer that his anger imbibes most of the time. But now…"

            "He's found that rage?" Signas guessed. He thought for a moment longer, then let his eyes widen. "You mean…because of Iris…"

            "Iris died today, for the second time in his life." X confirmed sadly, eyes watering a bit. "That is his rage. That is why he goes after Sigma now. And that's why I can't go."

            Signas shook his head. "I still don't understand…is it because you want to leave his vengeance to him alone?"

            Slowly, Mega Man X nodded his head. "Yeah…this is nobody's business but Zero's now."

            And as he finished saying that, he excused himself from the room and walked out the door, helmet on his head once again.

            Only when he was a safe distance away from Cain's old office did X's knees give out. He slumped onto the floor of the MHHQ hallway and pounded his fist on the floor, finally letting his sobs loose.

            _Zero…What's happening to you??_

_            You can't be turning back, you can't be…Gods, I know it hurts, I KNOW it does…_

_            Don't lose yourself in that rage, Zero, please!!_

"Don't do this to me, Zero." X croaked out. "I lost you once, don't make me lose you again…"

            _My friend…_

_            What are you turning into…_

            Above on the surface, Wycost and his band of go-getters struggled to maintain a hold on their positions. As the clock dwindled down, the remaining Enhanceds showed far more dedication, tenacity, and desperation than they had in the beginning. There was only six of them left, thankfully…the initial assault force, as large as it was, had been armed mostly with melee class weapons, and Wycost and Pharaoh Man had managed to make short work of a lot of them from a distance. Allegro and Doan had had the harder go of it, being thrown into multiple duels and hoping beyond hope that the shooters of their team were watching their backs.

            And right at that moment, the last six were ignoring Wycost and Pharaoh Man completely, their attentions focused on the struggling Allegro and a grimfaced Doan, both twirling their weapons about in a furious attempt to hold of the charging six warriors that were slowly encircling them.

            Wycost cursed and checked his energy gauges. "Damnit…25% Narwhal Striker, 10% Strobe Flash?? Sonofabitch." He switched back to his normal X-Buster and shook his head. "These bastards don't know when to quit."

            "Considering the timeframe we're running on, I don't blame them." Pharaoh Man replied, bringing his hands together. "But I'm not about to let them win because they have gumption." A slow whine filled the air, and a tiny node of orange light appeared between Pharaoh Man's palms.

            Wycost aimed and fired a level 2 green sizzler towards the pack of Enhanceds. His blast burned away at one of the fighters' EM shields, then dissipated. "Damnit, should have made that one stronger."

            "Stronger, eh?" Pharaoh Man mused, shaking his head. The pinprick of light between his hands expanded to the size of a baseball. "Stronger I can do. But I don't want to do it."

            Wycost's Enhanced target finally turned around and noticed the Bronx Bomber and Pharaoh Man standing off from a distance, in perfect alignment to pick off targets. He shouted out an order and three more turned away from the battle, charging towards them.

            "Terrific." Wycost growled, charging up another blast. "Just what I didn't need."

            "Tell me Wycost, how can you live with yourself??" Pharaoh Man asked abruptly, his mind seemingly aloof as his Pharaoh Shot grew to the size of a volleyball. The Bronx Bomber blinked a few times, then shook his head.

            "What do you mean? You mean, how can I go on living my life, even though I'm killing humans?"

            "Precisely." Pharaoh Man asked. "By pure definition, those actions are considered Maverick…are they not? And even though I know we're doing this for a damned good reason, and that this won't kill me like it should…How can I justify it?"

            "You're asking me to help you make peace with your heart." Wycost grumbled back. "That I can't do too easily. And just how large are you making that shot?"

            "Just distract them…I'll take care of the rest." Pharaoh Man grunted, lifting his hands above his head just as the energy sphere grew to the size of a coffee table. "But you still haven't answered my question."

            The Enhanced humans came ever closer…probably not more than 100 feet distant and making good time.

            "I can't really provide a pure answer." Wycost shrugged, flipping down his sunglare visor again and accessing his subweapons menu. His Buster shimmered for a moment, then sighed in resignation and highlighted one of its datanodes with a fluorescent light. "I quit the Maverick Hunters because I didn't see the point anymore. I left afterwards because I was tired of taking life needlessly."

            "But that's what we're doing here!" Pharaoh Man argued.

            "Wrong." Wycost growled. "We're preserving life. Reploid life. If Ice Beacon succeeds, we're all fucked."

            _60 feet…_

            "That's a clear case of contradiction if ever I heard one." Pharaoh Man snorted. "Save the reploid race and murder humans?"

            "Murder implies innocence of the victim." Wycost snapped back. "These guys aren't innocent, they're cold-blooded fanatical maniacs. The lot of them. And the Enhanced humans are warriors who have taken extra steps to ensure their success in their so-called 'holy war'."

            Pharaoh Man smiled a bit and shrugged, letting his energy orb expand even more, to the size of a medium sized refrigerator. "It seems to me then that you could apply that same reasoning as to why it's all right for Maverick Hunters to kill Mavericks."

            _20 feet…_

            "In the end, you can always find a reason to damn yourself." Wycost finished, clucking his tongue. "The trick to life and living is this, Pharaoh Man. DON'T guilt trip yourself. Just do what you feel is right."

            The Enhanced humans finally charged down on them all, and Wycost lifted his Buster. In one final flash of blinding light, Wycost stunned the foursome and ceased their attack. At that, he jumped back and shook his head. "They're all yours, Golden Boy!"

            "So…what I feel is right?" Pharaoh Man mused, pulling his hands down beside him with the brilliant energy orb finally expanding to the size of a car. The air filled with the scream of his shot at its maximum size, and the robot bared his teeth. "SO BE IT!!!"

            He launched his shot, boring it down on the lot of the scrambling Enhanceds. In less than a second, they vanished. Their EM shields collapsed under the intense strain of heat focused plasma, and their flesh and bodies gave out even quicker.

            The shot passed on, burning a long driving course through the ice before finally dissipating in strength and fading away. No Enhanceds in front of him, and a long burned in streak in the ice.

            Slowly, Pharaoh Man lowered his hands, looking sadly at where the humans had once stood.

            "We make our own choices in life. My only sadness now…is that you chose a blind hatred."

            Pharaoh Man said nothing then, allowing Wycost to walk up beside him and place an arm on his shoulder.

            Wycost looked over to Allegro and Doan, watching as the two warriors easily toppled their own opponents, freed of the bulk. "So, you figured it out?" Wycost asked softly.

            "Yeah." Pharaoh Man said in reply, looking up to the sky. "Does it ever get any easier to kill?"

            "Never does." Wycost answered.

            Pharaoh Man nodded, his eyes still sad. "Good."

            _At least…At least I'm still human._

            And at that, the Robot Master smiled. The irony of that statement hit home all too easily. Wycost lifted an eyebrow as he looked down at Phare.

            "What's so funny?"

            "Semantics." Pharaoh Man said curtly. "Now come on. I don't know how much time we have left to kill this thing, but it can't be long." He charged on ahead, plodding through the icy fields with tremendous leaps.

            Wycost clucked his tongue and engaged his dash thrusters at maximum speed, shooting behind the Robot Master he now called friend.

            "Let's just hope that Bristol, Bastion, and Willow managed to hold up their end of this deal." He muttered quietly to himself.

            _Or none of this will matter at all._

            Bastion had had enough…a substantial gash across his chest armor later, he'd managed to eliminate another Enhanced human. Which left just the one. Still, that one was proving very annoying. And Bastion was already hurting.

            **_"One minute and thirty seconds until signal launch…"_**

            "Goddamnit, ENOUGH!!" Bastion growled, pushing himself towards his opponent and disengaging his beam staff into his two sabers. The Enhanced human registered a moment of surprise, but was quick to get back on his feet and block away Bastion's blows.

            _I don't have time for this, I don't have TIME…_

            Subconsciously, Bastion activated his Angel's Advantage flight armor. The Enhanced human jumped away in surprise, his winterproofed coat flaring out from the sudden motion.

            In a blink of light, the stored saber charge pack on Bastion's backside expanded outwards a bit and opened two side slots. In a flaring of further dazzling light, Bastion's wings expanded.

            In the dim light, they shone almost as if carrying the light of heaven…expanding out and curling into a natural shape that would put most birds to shame. Only as their glow dimmed down did the emblazoned lightning bolt along the axes of the wings appear. Bastion gave his familiar enhancement a test flap, then settled on the ground and glared at the Enhanced human.

            "Enough of this." Bastion growled, forcing one of his wings to curl about and point forward. "You have done ENOUGH!!"

            The Enhanced human took another wary step back, then charged forth with a powerful scream. Bastion narrowed his eyes and fired a low pulse blast from his wing, the bolt of lightning less potent than usual. Still, considering the target it was used against, it had a similar effect.

            The Enhanced agent was thrown back full force from the crippling blast of electrical energies, twitching as his EM shield flared into existence for a brief moment, then died out in a blink. Calmly, Bastion drew his wing back into its normal position and shook his head.

            "Your time is up…and so is the time of your organization." The Enhanced human collapsed against the wall, still shaking from the power of Bastion's attack. In one swift movement, Bastion swept towards him, sabers raised for one final strike.

            Moments before Bastion applied the final crosscut upon his foe and destroyed the threat to his life, the Enhanced human's eyes rolled back into their sockets, registering the unnatural speed of Bastion's charge and the impending danger upon him. The MI9 agent tested his leg…only to find it electrocuted and unresponsive. The nerves were shot. His arms, however, still obeyed his orders. Calmly, the MI9 agent pulled his beam staff to bear and threw the front blade in front of him.

            It was over in less than a second. Bastion's airborne saber strike eliminated the last Enhanced human in the room with deadly efficiency. Only then did the Desert Angel's grip on his weapons falter.

            Gritting his teeth against the burning pain, Bastion forced himself to maintain control over his mentally activated flight armor, pulling back and away. The beam staff that had pierced his upper leg so readily growled menacingly one last time before shutting itself off, leaving a gaping hole clear and present.

            "DAMN…Damn him…" Bastion rasped, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth. His injured leg dangled with only shreds of synthskin and partially melted underskeletal structure intact…the blood vessels running down to his boots long since burst and seared shut. No bleeding…but he had a dead limb.

            With more pain than should have been, Bastion shut off his sabers and put them away, pulling one hand down to his now nearly severed leg to keep it attached. Not life threatening, at least not right away…but he'd need repairs soon or he wouldn't have a leg to speak of.

            _Terrific. A flying cripple. What's __Bristol__ going to say to that??_ He mused bitterly.

            And then he stopped. Bristol.

            _God, she went on alone…_

_            **"One minute and ten seconds until signal transfer…"**_

****_AND THE TIMER HASN'T STOPPED!!!_

            Reploid adrenaline surged through Bastion's body, pushing the pain aside. Once more, the grim desperation of the situation grasped at him and forced everything else aside.

            In another brilliant crackle of artificial lightning, Bastion blew a hole through the sealed doorway preventing his exit from the duel arena. Down the hall he flew, as fast as he could…Then up a side shaft to the next floor, sub-basement 2. The same floor he had left Bristol to go on alone…The same floor with the shield emitter controls.

            One hand curled down and wrapped tightly around his dangling, almost severed leg, Bastion escaped the side shaft and flew down the main hallway.

            _I'm coming, __Bristol__…I'M COMING!!!_

            Hazil was not happy. Then again, seeing as he'd been deprived of a nice, cheerful chat with J.K. Horn, that was understandable. More so when one grasped that Hazil HATED having to report to the Emergency Room, just down the hall a ways from the Medical Bay.

            Where as the Medical Bay had homely touches and a personable air, the Emergency Room was cold and lifeless. The smell of antiseptic may have been the same, but the warmth of living souls that could be found in the décor of the Medical Bay didn't exist anywhere else. Here in the Emergency Room of the MHHQ, it was all cold and calculating machines, operating tables and a massive side room of recovery cots.

            Hazil hated this place. The only time people came here was when they were about to die…or they were being brought back from the lip of it. Today, he had a wide variety of cases on his hands from the elite Hunters, the ones that had been sent out to deal with Sigma and his band of cronies. Considering all that had happened, they'd gotten off easy. And from a tactical standpoint, the standpoint of a historian, it had been a victory for the Hunters.

            But with that many Hunters dead and gone, never again to walk the halls or report in for checkups, it was no victory Hazil was proud of.

            J.K. Horn was beside the Chief Medical Officer, aiding him as best he knew how. Though Horn's knowledge was primarily focused in weapons development and machine engineering, he knew enough about the inner workings and the repair of reploids to serve as a capable nurse. The rest of the MHHQ medical staff was there as well, frazzled beyond all belief. The field medics were being given a true test of their abilities now, working furiously to save the lives of their fellow kin and soldiers.

            Through the noise of frantic commands for surgical gear and procedures and triage and the cries of those who were still awake enough to feel the pain surging through their circuits, Horn found it difficult to focus on any particular group. But Hazil seemed unfazed as he walked up beside three familiar faces; Jad, Kol, and Gavin of the 21st Unit under Bastion.

            Kol was the only one of the three left standing and unharmed. Gavin lay there, a crushed and mangled leg to his name and his body and mind separated in the blissful, life pausing state known as auto-stasis. Jad sat numbly on the edge of his operating table bed, cradling the stump of his arm. Kol stood between them, his face turning to Hazil.

            "They'd better make it, doc." He said gravely. "They'd better by God make it, or there'll be Hell to pay."

            "Give Hell where it's due, that's what I always say." Hazil sighed wearily. "My job is just to patch up the lot of you fuckers, not to place blame or to take it. And keep your malpractice suits to yourself. I've been doing this for more than a decade, so if something goes wrong it ain't my fault." He brought his medical scanner over Gavin and shook his head. "The guy's leg is shot to Hell, but the rest of him is fine. And seeing as I don't feel much like replacing limbs today, I'll put in the extra time to restore his current one back to working order." Hazil turned and looked over to Jad. "And how's my favorite hotshot doing today?"

            "Missing an arm and mad as a hornet." Jad slurred, struggling to bring his head up to bear. "Si…gma is gonna pay for what he did."

            "Knowing that guy, he's got X and Zero riding his carcass as we speak." Hazil shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He turned to Kol. "Where's the rest of his arm??"

            Kol calmly handed over the severed limb, and Hazil gave it a passing glance before handing it back to Horn. He turned to Jad and tsked.

            "Jad my boy, I love you to death, but I'm afraid I need you unconscious for this procedure."

            "I know…Should be sleeping right now, but I didn't wanna." Jad added dozily.

            Hazil harrumphed with a small grin. "You disabled auto-stasis, didn't you you cocky bastard?"

            "Daaamn straight." Jad grinned. He leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes. "But now…I think a nap sounds good."

            A few eyeblinks later, Jad faded away into a self-induced stasis, shutting his primary systems into standby. Hazil sighed again and turned to Kol. "If you three don't take the cake, I don't know what does. Knowing Jad here, he tried to take on Sigma himself."

            Kol nodded his head once. Horn cleared his throat and gave Hazil back Jad's severed arm, still configured into its Buster form. The ex-Israeli weapons designer ran a finger along the cut.

            "Clean…way too clean. I'd wager a plasma blade of some kind, thin field distribution." Horn looked up to Kol. "Sigma must have had himself a real fine tuned dagger."

            "The plasma dagger you speak of came from a wrist gauntlet." Kol murmured back. Hazil blinked a few times, then nodded again.

            "Well, that'd definitely save on his recharge costs, having it linked to his main energy core." Hazil motioned to the door. "Now get out of here, Kol. What we have to do next isn't going to be pretty, and I don't want to ruin your notions and mental pictures of your teammates because you saw them with their wiring exposed."

            Kol nodded once and walked out a ways…but then paused, and turned back around, a sudden fury in his eyes.

            "Answer me this, Hazil." Kol stated bitterly. "When my friends were getting killed out there on that field by Sigma and those Maverick Generals…just where was Commander Bastion??"

            At that, Hazil paused and turned to look at Kol with icy eyes. "What, you want to blame him now too? Christ, you're shallow." Hazil put down his gear and walked over to Kol, looking angrier by the moment. "I KNOW where Bastion is. And what he's doing right now is more important than this stupid battle was, that I can personally guarantee. You were fighting to destroy Sigma and end the latest rash of violence from him. Bastion is out in the middle of nowhere, fighting to preserve our entire race. And chances are he's not coming back alive. So GODDAMNIT, DON'T come in here looking for someone to blame!!" Hazil poked Kol in the chest, causing the Hunter to stumble backwards with a confused and slightly frightened look on his face. "News flash, Kol. You EXIST in a place and in an organization where there's a high risk factor that you won't come back the next morning. You ACCEPTED that when you joined, or at least I thought you had! Sometimes, there's nobody at fault when a person dies. This is one of these times. I understand you're frustrated, that I can accept. Hell, I've got more than a DECADE of frustration pent up in here, and if there was some way to measure how much force I've been saving up, I imagine that it'd blow up Mount Fuji. But when you start looking for someone to blame, somebody to get angry at that is a friend and comrade, THEN YOU'VE OVERSTEPPED THE LINE." Hazil's face was beginning to get red, as his own frustration finally found an outlet. "Bastion is a good man, and you know that. It's not his damn fault Jad hotdogged Sigma, it's not his damn fault Gavin's foot is crushed!! And your wanting to play him as the scapegoat does nothing to enhance your own reputation, AND YOU KNOW THAT."

            Hazil's head of steam evaporated moments later, after he had calmed down and stepped away from Kol. The Maverick Hunter now wore a look of guilt on his face, his face downcast.

            "Yeah. Yeah, I do." Kol looked up, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Haz. I should know better than to blow off like that. It's just that Jad and Gavin are like that…and Bastion's not even here to visit them. I got upset."

            "We all do at some point." Hazil said wearily. "Apology accepted, kid. Now get out of here. The healthy have no business among the suffering."

            "Then what are you doing here?" Kol argued turning to walk out the door, but keeping his face trained on Hazil.

            The medical reploid brushed back his gray and frazzled hair, looking older than any reploid ever should have had to.

            "What makes you think I'm not?" Hazil finally said, in the quietest tone the Hunter had ever heard him use.

            Not one to wait for Hazil to elaborate, Kol nodded his head in acceptance and walked out of the Emergency Room. Hazil turned about and walked back towards Gavin and Jad, shaking his head.

            Horn whistled appreciatively, crossing his arms.

            "Remind me never to get on your bad side." The other elderly reploid said calmly.

            "There was a time you once were." Hazil answered back, turning his attention back to his charges. "And then Sigma's Sixth happened. Acceptance followed soon after. As we are now, I even have you drinking with me. And that's enough to call you friend."

            "Good to hear that." Horn chuckled. "Old reploids like us shouldn't be without good friends and good company."

            "Hell, X is older than us." Hazil snorted. "We just LOOK the part."

            "Good enough for me." Horn replied. He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't suppose you have any inkling how our…friends are doing with their own little mission, do you?"

            Hazil was already opening up Gavin's leg and pulling in surgical gear from left and right. "Horn, if I knew that, I'd quit being a doctor and take up a job as a psychic." He turned and motioned for Horn to come closer. "But for the time being, I'll leave them to their own devices. They have their mission, and I have my job. And worrying about them isn't going to keep these people alive now, is it??"

            "I suppose not." Horn shrugged. He handed Hazil a portable matter replicator that was used to repair atomized internal wiring and circuitry.

            "Besides…" Hazil mused calmly, grabbing the device from Horn and beginning the messy process of repairing Gavin's crushed leg, "If they failed, we'll know soon enough. When the lot of us begin frothing at the mouth and seeing enemies that aren't there."

            "Lousy way to figure out a victory or a loss." Horn muttered under his breath.

            Hazil subconsciously nodded his head.

            _But it's the only one we got…_

_Bristol__, don't let us down._

            Bristol didn't feel Kowalski's beam trident impale her onto the wall of the shield emitter control room…in fact, as she opened her eyes, she realized the felt nothing. And for that matter, her environment had changed as well. No longer was she slumped against the floor and wall of a cold, ice constructed room, but rather standing in an endless horizon of white. She shook her head for a moment, realizing that she was standing on nothing and still maintaining balance.

            "What…" She murmured, looking about. "Where am I?"

            "You're nowhere." The reply came, quiet but assertive. Bristol turned about to find herself staring at a familiar face, still dressed in the same white loose fitting garb.

            "Isaiah??"

            The ghost smiled and nodded his head, putting a hand into his pants pocket. "Seemed like you needed a break there. I haven't done much…and you're still where you were a microsecond ago."

            "So just what have you done?"

            "In short…I pulled your consciousness to an alternate plane of reality. One not limited by the rules of the Universe, but guided by my mind." Isaiah said matter-of factly. "You might call this my little corner of space and time. Well, I suppose not so much mine as everyone's, but still."

            Isaiah walked over next to Bristol and looked her square in the face, an easy task considering they were the same height. "Ya know, I thought I had told you once already that Ice Beacon isn't 100% guaranteed to work."

            Bristol's face went crestfallen again. "But…There's not enough time. There isn't. And Willow and Bastion are…And Wycost and the others…"

            "So, you trust the words of a zealot now, do you?" Isaiah harrumphed. "Come on, Bristol. You're a scientist. Think objectively."

            "If I thought objectively, I'd discount your existence entirely." Bristol retorted with no humor. "So you mean to tell me that Kowalski was lying??"

            "To a point." Isaiah shrugged. The ghost rubbed at his chin. "But you're not through yet and neither is the reploid race. Provided that you realize one very important thing and hold to it."

            "What?"

            "Nobody can tell you if you're going to succeed or fail BUT YOU." Isaiah stated firmly, pointing a finger at her. "Sure, right now you're thinking that it's all over with. A little more than a minute until Ice Beacon transmits the UBF and the entire world population of reploids flips out. You think you're beaten, defeated by a commander who albeit does his job very well, is only human. It's far from over, Bristol. And the moment you realize THAT, then your mission does stand a chance."

            Isaiah turned about and started walking off. Bristol lifted a hand up, trying to reach towards him.

            "Wait! Isaiah, where are you going??"

            "Back where I belong. The realm of the dead and the watchers." Isaiah grumbled. "I swear, you and your little cadre of friends, Wycost especially, have caused me more grief in my afterlife than I ever thought possible…guess that's what I get for opting to be a field agent." Isaiah paused, then turned about. "Your place, my dear, is among the living. Remember that. And never forget…this thing can only fail if YOU choose it to."

            Isaiah turned about and kept walking. Bristol remained there in the bright light, watching his already transparent form begin to grow dimmer and formless.

            And then she blinked…And found herself right where she had been before.

            Kowalski's beam trident was soaring down towards her midsection, the triumphantly grinning MI9 commander poised for the kill. In her eyes, Bristol registered panic, fear, and sudden alertness. But above all else, she felt a resurgence of strength in her…A chance to once again change the outcome that been all but predetermined.

            _No…No, you won't win…DAMNIT, NO!!!_

Her beam saber came up, flaring to life instantaneously underneath her supple and poised fingers. She laid it at an angle, catching his trident between the pointed forks and forcing it back. The Ice Beacon commander grunted in surprise, finding himself struggling now to force his weapon into his foe.

            Bristol looked up, her eyes partially hidden by misplaced stands of her long blond hair. But Kowalski could see enough to register the sudden spark of life in her blazing blue orbs, the return of that potent fire…the will that came when one was fighting for their life.

            "No." Bristol uttered quietly, shaking her head. "No, you're not doing this."

            "Damnit, you reploid scum…" Kowalski growled bitterly, trying to overpower her. Bristol's body tensed up, her teeth gritted as her own body's meager strength tried to compensate for the greater force being put upon her. "Just die already!!"

            A low snarl rose up from deep within Bristol as she pulled one leg up and pointed the heel of her boot towards him.

            "YOU FIRST." She rasped, igniting her boot's dash thrusters. Kowalski had no chance.

            The burst of synthesized hydrogen flames burst on his torso like water to an unwilling cat, immolating him in a swathing sea of flames. His uniform had been designed to keep the cold out, but held very little for fire resistance. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Kowalski stumbled back, tearing off the burning garments despite the fact the damage had been done.

            It took him a few more moments, probably due to shock and his adrenaline, to notice that even with his parka removed, his interior clothing had been burned away, leaving massive third degree burns on his entire chest and stomach.

            Calmly, Bristol picked herself up to her feet and stood over him as he crumpled onto the floor. "The flames from a reploid's Emergency Acceleration System are hot enough to blow away most members of our own species. This is the damage a half powered blast does to a human."

            Kowalski coughed, his body shaking as it dealt with the sudden cold and the excruciating pain of the burn. "Damn…" He coughed up a lungful of blood, then reached for his beam trident.

            Bristol's foot smashed down on his hand and his weapon, crushing both into uselessness. Kowalski screamed again, even more painfully now as he felt bones shatter. And then Bristol stared into his face once more.

            "The reploid race is not extinct, and it will not be for any time soon. Ice Beacon WILL fall, Kowalski. And your mission of hatred and genocide has been ended."

            Kowalski looked up at her, face filled with pain, but also with a smile of triumph.

            "Fool…" He chuckled. "Even…if Ice Beacon…others still…will be around to…continue our work…"

            Bristol's mouth twinged in disgust, and she swung her saber down, severing his head from his neck and ending his suffering. That done with, she put her saber away and walked over to his discarded plasma assault cannon.

            "One thing at a time, Kowalski. Ice Beacon first."

            She powered up the gun, feeling the energies coalesce within as it whined from its muzzle. In one brilliant flash of light and a piercing beam of white hot accelerated gas given release, the room's control panels linked to Ice Beacon's shield emitter exploded into pieces.

            **_"One minute until signal transfer…be advised, shield emitter is offline. Shield emitter is offline."_**

            Bristol could weep for relief…except she knew the job wasn't done yet.

            The transmitter dish carved out of the Antarctic ice itself had yet to be destroyed, and that meant getting to it and helping the rest of their struggling teammates blasting it to ice cubes. If there was anybody up on top left to save…

            At that moment, Bastion appeared in the room, bursting through the hallway at a reckless speed.

            "Thank God." He exhaled, shaking his head. Slowly, Bristol turned about, his familiar voice further giving her cause for relief. But then she took a second look at him and gasped.

            One of his legs had nearly fallen off, and he was clutching at it with his right hand, doing his best not to let it snap completely away. His face was grave and pale, showing the pain he tried to hide. At the same time…his eyes shone with the same relief Bristol felt.

            "You stupid bloke." Bristol finally managed to choke out, running over to him and hugging him as he floated a few centimeters above the ground. "Don't ever do that to me again…"

            "Wasn't planning on it." Bristol chuckled softly, pulling her head against his chest. "Sounds like you managed to disable the shield emitter." He poked his head up from her sweet smelling blond hair and blinked at the room's condition. "Looks like it too."

            "We don't have time." Bristol said after a moment, pulling back from him. "We need to get to the surface, and I don't trust warping."

            "Why not??"

            "Their security might have been bolstered up a few hundred more notches. You want to risk getting your molecules scrambled, be my guest. But MI9 was rarely one to cut corners around paranoia." Bristol picked up Kowalski's plasma cannon and pointed it towards the ceiling. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take a more direct route to get to the surface."

            Bastion chuckled for a moment and pointed his wings to the ceiling as well. "What little charge I do have left in these things I'll gladly offer."

            Bristol walked back over to Bastion and leapt up into his remaining arm, kissing him on the cheek. "Let's get out of here…there's still a transmitter to destroy!"

            Bastion's wings exploded in radiant lightning once again, blasting away the ceiling and clearing a path. At the same time, Bristol lifted her plasma cannon to the sky and fired, clearing a straighter path from Bastion's widespread burst.

            Chunks of ice and rivulets of water crashed down on them, remains of the ice that hadn't been instantly vaporized by the intensity of their attack. Bristol winced and increased the power on her cannon, setting it to continuous pulse. But even that didn't make up for it after a while, as Bastion's Angel's Advantage wings began to give out.

            **_"Fifty seconds until signal launch…"_**

            "DAMNIT!!!" Bastion cursed, shaking his head. "It's no good, Bristol. The power supply on my flight armor is going to run out!!"

            "Oh no it's not." Bristol growled, pulling the trigger of her cannon even tighter. "When I designed it, I figured that you might one day need to make the Flight Armor a permanent part of your battle gear. Connect it to your main power supply and STAND BACK!!"

            Bastion blinked a few times, then shut his eyes and accessed his internal systems menu, eyelids fluttering as he rearranged the command line codes.

            **_Switch Angel's Advantage power supply from self-sustaining to main system feed._**

**Confirm?? Y/N?**

**            _Confirm. _**

**Please wait…readjusting supply matrix…**

            He didn't have long to wait. Moments before his waning battery life would have caused his flight armor to shut down completely, he could feel a new connection being made from the storage pack underneath his saber recharge ports to the rest of his body, causing his back to arch for a brief moment. But that brief pinprick of pain as the Angel's Advantage forged a connection with his internal power supply sent by his microfusion generator was worth it…

            In a brilliant blast of light, his wings glittered brighter than they ever had before, causing the lightning bolts to go nearly invisible for a brief moment before they returned blazing a brilliant blue against the blinding whiteness. And then the lightning strike of his bipolar wing blasters surged again…five times as powerful, and intensely more focused. Bristol's singular beam of pulsing plasma was suddenly joined by the furious power of millions of watts unleashed. A tunnel to the surface and sky above suddenly began to take shape, ten feet wide and growing vertically at ten meters a second.

            Bastion whooped in glee, ignoring the pain in his nearly severed leg in that moment. "Bristol, you are AMAZING!!"

            Bristol wrapped her arm tighter around his neck and curled in closer to his body, holding fast to her flying angel.

            "Just amazing enough." She smiled, looking into his eyes for one long moment.

            And then the two of them turned to the fast shrinking ceiling and the tunnel of their manufacture…and shot up towards their final challenge.

            Wycost could hardly believe what he saw. One moment he was trailing behind Pharaoh Man and approaching Doan and Allegro by the edge of the impenetrable EM field barrier guarding the Ice Beacon transmitter, and the next the field began to hum at an angry rate before vanishing entirely. He skidded to a halt beside Doan and blinked at the sight of the intricate carving work that had been poured into the transmitter.

            "The shield's down?" Wycost gaped in amazement. Doan frowned, as he usually did and leapt up into the air, pushing his new Archangel flight armor into motion again. In one swift movement, he pushed himself past where the barrier had been…then turned about and flashed a thumbs up.

            "Shield is down, Wycost." Doan confirmed, with some sign of relief in his voice.

            "Then let's take this bird DOWN!!" Allegro whooped, dash jumping into the concave hemisphere and sliding down the frictionless side. He whipped his beam staff out and carved a deep gash alongside his path, grinning like an insane fool. Meanwhile, Doan also began his assault, putting his beam lance away and activating his Buster, blasting shot after shot of hot plasma along the ice transmitter's surface, pockmarking it and ruining the transmitter quality.

            "It seems this mission was not as doomed as originally thought." Pharaoh Man harrumphed with a smile, bringing his hands together and charging up another massive oversized globe of plasmic energy.

            Wycost flipped his goggles up, finally letting his triumphant eyes see their objective untained.

            "No…no, it most certainly isn't." He accessed his variable weapons grid, selecting one of his special weapons. The data node for his Narwhal Striker lit up again, and Wycost aimed into the sky, charging up for a moment and mentally assigning a target to the missiles, two to be exact.

            With two slight concussions, Wycost unloaded the last of his explosive stock, the two missiles rising up into the air before turning downwards at an angle and crashing at midway along the exterior rim, blasting the portion of the transmitter into shreds. A few moments later, he switched over to his normal plasma function and also began furiously pelting away at the surface. And then the above ground speakers finally crackled to life, surprising them all.

            **_"Forty five seconds until signal transfer…warning. Outer transmitter has taken severe damage. Backup transmitter now being activated."_**

            Every warrior suddenly pulled back away from the transmission dish carved out of the ice, their senses alert after the announcement. Allegro finished his halfpipe roll, dash jumping out of the curved surface and keying in his comm.

            "What the Hell…WHAT BACKUP!?"

            Wycost and Doan grew more thin lipped, Allegro looked stunned, and Pharaoh Man remained mute, continuing to build up his charge, the blast already so large that it dwarfed him twice over.

            And then Ice Beacon revealed its last surprise. The ground beneath their feet suddenly began to shake, and the carved ice dish quivered and crumbled.

            Before their eyes, a metallic behemoth, the same size as the object they had been struggling to destroy rose from an icy tomb, standing erect and proud, and a hundred times more menacing.

            "Oh, Sweet Christ no…" Wycost whispered, taking a step back. "Don't tell me…"

            Angrily, Doan fired off a level 3 supershot towards the rim of the dish. The blow sunk in, yet showed little signs of giving way. He cursed.

            "DAMNIT!!!"

            Wycost cringed as well.

            _Not TitaniTefloAlloy, thank God…that stuff is impossible to blow…but it's nearly as bad._

"And just what is the composition of THAT particular little number?" Pharaoh Man chirped candidly, leaping high into the air and hurling his massive sunburst at the center of the concave dish. The high intensity plasma seared through the air and sunk into the bowl, melting away the tiny whiplike antennae that rose up fifty feet from the higher outer rims. Back with the ice transmitter, that tiny piece of metal rising five feet from the surface had been all that had been visible. Only now did the monster reveal itself…and it was a monster.

            Pharaoh Man's tremendous blow angrily ate away at its surface…and when it was done, it had left it tarnished and melted at parts, portions of the high durability metal unrecognizeable. But the basic shape was there, and with that still existing, the countdown went on.

            "DAMNIT!!" Allegro screamed over the comm channel. "What's that shit made of?!"

            "High strength durasteel." Wycost whistled through his teeth, flipping his sunglare goggles down and building up a Buster charge of his own. "Goddamn high strength durasteel."

            The ground level communications box almost seemed to laugh at them and their pitiful efforts as it continued the countdown.

            **_"Thirty seconds until signal launch…"_**

            Somebody traveling along the icy length of Greenland's surface would not have suspected that anything was wrong. Sure, they might have wondered why a warp signature would crash down through the earth and ice below, closely followed by another not long after…but all in all, they would have suspected little.

            Certainly not that the Maverick King Sigma and the Crimson Hunter Zero Omega were fifty feet below, fighting each other for life and death. And not just for their own, but perhaps for the fate of every human and reploid and robot that walked the Earth. In a battle that had never ended, but merely been postponed countless times for thirteen years, they fought on. But somehow, so much more seemed at stake.

            Sigma grunted, jumping backwards and flaring his arms outwards, his shoulder racks launching a barrage of concussive missiles. The short-ranged berserkers flew on towards the rampaging Zero, scattering around him and exploding. Countless glowing green liquid filled regeneration tubules in the bases' Reconstruction Bay shattered apart, glass and polymer shards crisscrossing in every direction from the billowing clouds of minute plasma discharge and the burning scent of ozone, melding with a surge of matter rich liquid given release.

            From that maelstrom, Zero charged out, saber held to the side for a fraction of a moment before it swung out with a mighty hiss. Sigma's red eyes spread wide as he whipped his own plasma blade against Zero's slash, grunting as the force of the blow sent him sprawling backwards against another regeneration capsule, cracking the toughened plasteel polymers with a spiraling spider web design. Green liquid began to seep out from the mess, eagerly dribbling to the floor and draining down with the rest of its bubbling kin through the grated floor.

            Zero screamed again, leaping into the air and spinning like a top, holding his saber parallel to his body and creating a spinning wheel of death. Sigma lifted up his TitaniTefloAlloy claws just in time, catching Zero's blow and stopping the spin cold. But the Maverick King had no time to gloat, as the furious warrior suddenly jumped in midair and prepared to downthrust his saber. Sigma's eyes widened, wondering for a moment if Zero still held the power of the Hyouretsuzan within his weapon, but was thankfully proven wrong. Growling angrily, Sigma backflipped over the cracked regeneration capsule and roundhouse kicked, catching Zero square in the stomach with no chance to defend. The Crimson Hunter almost sounded like he was coughing up a lung for a moment as the force of the blow carried him across the room and slammed him headfirst into a display panel that was monitoring the status of all the capsules in the room. Zero bellowed like a bull as the electricity from the shattered monitor surged through his head and body, taking a quivering and unstable fist and punching against the barrier, knocking himself free of it.

            Sigma stood back up to his full height, taking a few breaths of air to calm himself from his state of fear. With Zero writhing on the floor in the grip of that system numbing electricity, he could have a moment…but probably no more than that.

            _He can't be…no, he can't be the same. The only time he was ever like that was when the Virus was inside of him, more than thirteen years ago…This is just his frustration and grief, that's all it is…_

And then a voice in Sigma's head chuckled, appearing when the frenzied Maverick King needed it least.

            **_Stop fooling yourself. You can see it as clear as day. Just like you said Sigma, he was never truly rid of me…I was just dormant in his systems. In a way, I can finally applaud you. A year before, you broke his spirit and caused him to open up to the deepest portions of his rage…a rage that he eventually fought himself out of, subduing me in the process. _**

****_No…shut up, it can't be…_

_            **I thought he'd never give into me again, after that…he'd vented so much, he had found the strength and resolve to push me into a corner, to fight for X and to fight to keep everyone else safe. He stopped fighting for rage and for pain and vengeance then…But you gave that back to him just now. Iris is dead. You teased him about it, you tortured him over it. And that was what he needed.**_

****Inside of Sigma's head, the Maverick whimpered as the presence took form, shaping itself into an ominous looking man with an unclear face and wild white hair in a dirty lab coat.

            **_He's fighting it…Oh, I can see it on his face, Sigma. He's fighting it, trying to push back that rage again. His sanity is fighting against his emotions now, as it has done before countless times._**

****_SHUT UP!!! _Sigma screamed at himself. _He's going to kill me, he's going to…_

            Zero's body finally recovered from the devastating pulses, and the Crimson Hunter pulled himself to his feet, a hazy and dulled look to his eyes, and murder still clear on his face. His saber rose up and he grasped it in both hands, staring at Sigma once more with bared teeth and a growl that went beyond mere hearing.

            **_This time, Sigma…this time, he won't win. He can't. Sanity tells him that the rage he is slipping into will lead him to destruction and back to me. At the same time, his emotions scream the opposite…and it is his emotions that caused him to come here. His grief, his vengeance, his hatred of you…those are what drove him here, what tell him now to pick up that old saber of yours and strike you down where you stand. It's a sweet, sweet elixir, forbidden juice he's being tempted with…and the tart zip is too much for him to pass up._**

****Sigma could scream for his fate, hearing from the accursed Virus that was a part of him that Zero's true self was once more being brought forth and that he was the cause of it, and seeing for himself the power and ruthlessness that form brought his adversary.

            _"Why…" _Zero hissed, the internal battle being fought evident in the struggling on his face. _"Why are you doing this to me…Why do you WANT me to go mad?!"_

            Sigma righted himself and stared at Zero, his mouth hung open as the madman realized he did not have an answer. Not one that wouldn't further enrage the Hunter more than he already was. In the end, there was nothing he could say, he'd already said it all.

            **_Heh…now you get it. You took him this far, Sigma. Under my guidance, you have driven him to grief and to rage. There's nothing you can do to reverse it now. _**

****_Why…why must you do this to me?!_

_            **Because you are my instrument and my reach. **_The Virus sneered. **_Your existence means little to me, unless it ensures my own. Ii desu yo, my dear Sigma._**

****"DAMNIT!!!" Sigma screamed, firing another set of missiles towards Zero. The Crimson Hunter responded again, crashing himself low to the ground and activating his dash thrusters, barely escaping the cacophonic explosion.

            "SIGMA!!!" Zero screamed, his saber swinging out once more towards Sigma's stomach. The Maverick King cursed underneath his breath, pushing both of his weapons down to the attack. His lash blunted, Zero struck out, swinging a boot around and slamming it into the side of Sigma's head as he hung in midair. The Maverick grunted, stumbling to the side for a moment before he growled and grabbed Zero's foot, feeling an almost soothing rage return to him. Fear left Sigma in that fraction of time, and only anger remained.

            "Nice try, bastard." Sigma growled, meaning every word of it as he flung Zero behind him, crashing the Hunter through the thin hydraulic door and into the kitchen and dining room area with a thud and cry of pain. Sigma curled his fingers in anticipation, launching another full barrage of missiles into the dimly lit room. They all flew on, leaving wispy smoke trails before passing by the doorway…and exploding with a resounding crash. From the kitchen came a louder secondary explosion…the missiles had taken the natural gas tanks in the room, the blast causing a surge of hot and angry flames to flash out of the doorway like dragon's breath. Sigma cringed and recoiled back from the explosion, taking a sigh of relief. That had to have shut Zero down.

            How wrong he could be…

            The interior of the kitchen reacted to the sudden presence of smoke and flames, triggering the ventilation system and the sprinklers to douse the fire. And then, as the ventilators cut out after the smoke cleared, the unmistakable noise of rubble being moved came out from the ruined portion of Sigma's underground facility.

            In the darkness of the ruined kitchen, a monster rose.  His eyes glowed bright red, and his green beam saber seemed to whistle for the blood yet to be tasted.

            Sigma stood tall, pushing everything aside, tired of fighting against the laughing voice of the old madman in his head. He simply let himself listen to it, as he had done so many times before. Freed of the fear of his old self, phased completely with the delicious words and comforting presence of the Virus inside of him, Sigma smirked.

            "So…the Demon rises again."

            Zero said nothing, standing there in the darkness with his smouldering eyes burning towards his foe. So focused on those transfixing eyes was Sigma that he didn't catch the plinking sound bouncing towards him until a glint of light from the surviving monitors behind him caught an object rolling his way. Surprised, Sigma looked down, feeling surprise wash over him not long after. Cursing, he jumped backwards from the object, a Rakuhouha high plasmic fragmentation explosive.

            In a brilliant burst of light and flying plasma spheres, the room shattered apart from the strain, metal walls and ceilings giving way easily to the furious special weapon Zero had inherited from the Fourth Maverick Uprising. Sigma roared out as he was thrown to the floor, unharmed by the blast but feeling icy cold water suddenly trickle onto his head from the holes in the ceiling…water that came from the ice above him.

            Quickly, he pulled himself to his feet, swerving about to stare at the doorway. It was then that the last of the lights in the room went out…and Sigma realized that those smouldering eyes no longer watched him from the destroyed ruins of the kitchen.

            From behind him, Sigma picked up a low, malevolent chuckle. The Maverick King swerved about, slashing angrily with his plasma gauntlet's blade. He hit nothing…prompting only another low and plotting chuckle from another location in the room.

            _"You always did end up missing the mark…" _Zero's voice, somehow hollower than Sigma could ever remember hearing it. _"You kill my friends, my loved ones, people I care about…but you always miss me. You may be a plotting, conniving bastard with visions of grandeur, but your aim is worthless."_

            "Damn you!!" Sigma swore, slashing out at the darkness again. For a moment, he thought he saw the briefest glimpse of a fluttering trail of blond hair…but then saw nothing again.

            Zero's throaty warble became audible again, and Sigma's blood curdled. This game of cat and mouse was more than annoying, and he HATED being the mouse.

            _"Tell me…why do you kill them all, Sigma??" _Zero asked, his voice bordering on a snarl. _"Does it give you a rush?? A delicious forbidden thrill, to watch innocents and bystanders perish by your hand? Or is it that you have decided that the only way you can harm me is through the suffering of others?!"_

Sigma roared, launching a barrage of missiles throughout the scattered remains of the entire room, hoping that at least one would hit. In the brilliant light that resulted from his explosion, Sigma could see Zero avoiding every one, charging towards him with his saber ignited and flaring out in all directions. The Maverick Lord let out a brief cry of surprise, stumbling backwards as the bull mad Zero leapt onto him.

            The Crimson Hunter screamed bloody murder, issuing out slash after devastating slash at Sigma, each time the Maverick King barely managing to block them. But he continued to stumble back, holding out against Zero's furious assault. From the destroyed regeneration center, the two warriors fought on into the data library, walls lined with tall databanks and blinking status lights. The room was well lit with white fluorescent bars attached to the ceiling, but that changed moments later, as a furious Zero leapt up into the air, cleaving the light fixtures into shreds as he swung down towards Sigma's large head.

            Sigma had had enough of this, and he had had enough of Zero's insane antics.

            "Why won't you DIE?!" Sigma barked, slamming his TitaniTefloAlloy claws up with so much force that he jarred Zero loose from his attack and stumbling in his fall. With yet another smooth motion, the Maverick King roundhouse kicked his foe backwards into the room they had just come from. Zero grunted, taking the blow and flying backwards until he crashed in the rubble of the regeneration tubes, back into the darkness.

            Sigma was beginning to become exhausted, his physical body beginning to feel the wear of the events on Hokkaido and now the duel with Zero combining for a heavy toll. "Why won't you die…Just die already, Zero!"

            From the darkness, there was a few moments of silence, and then a warbling sound that was a cross between a hiccup, a sob, and a yelp.

            _"Just die…just die…how many times has X said that to YOU, Sigma?? Tell me, in that black heart of yours, what causes you to keep going, even when all logic tells you…tells you…you have no right to live anymore…"_

The sound of rubble being displaced, of a figure rising from the ashes yet again…and then the eyes of the Demon, glowing in the darkness.

            _"Tell me, why should I die?? To stop haunting you? To forever vanish from your nightmares?? Countless innocents have thought the same of you and the Mavericks you thoughtlessly create in this war. And I know, Sigma…that this fight has lost all meaning to you."_

Zero lumbered slowly from the darkness, his hair bedraggled and tarnished, his faces' synthskin torn, a loose flap of cheek hanging down to reveal the metal underneath. And that grin…that sickening grin Sigma could never think possible.

            _My grin…_

            _"This long ago ceased to be a war fought for reploid independence…if that was the case, then you wouldn't need to infect them, they would come willingly to you. No…you recruit your warriors now from handpicked stock, unwilling fighters. Your newest six, all members of URFAWP. And before that, you seduced Repliforce warriors and Dragoon…before that, you turned all of Dopplertown into your personal fortress with that power. You fight this war because you can't stop."_

"You and X are still here…still interfering in my plans, still the thorns in my side." Sigma growled back.

            _"And so now we see the true cause…" _Zero chuckled. _"You fight now only to fight us, in the mad hopes that one day, ONE DAY, we shall die and you will have won. It doesn't matter who dies in pursuit of that one goal, it doesn't matter who suffers. All casualties for the greater directive…your lust for the battle, for the KILL."_

"So what?!" Sigma challenged with a chuckle. "Tell me yourself that you don't enjoy the same thing. I remember when you first came to your senses, in the loving arms of Cain back at the MHHQ…and what did you decide to do?? The whole world was open to you, Cain could have helped you accomplish anything with your life, and instead, you decided to FIGHT."

            Zero chuckled for a moment, his voice growing shallower still. Sigma's smile faded fast into disbelief, and then worry as Zero's laugh grew louder, crazier, until his head was reared back and the Crimson Hunter was guffawing for nothing.

            "Damnit, STOP THAT!!!" Sigma barked tersely.

            Zero tilted his head down, his laugh subsiding a bit. But his eyes stopped Sigma cold.

            The intelligence was gone…not a spark of the Zero who had been standing there fifteen seconds before remained, and there was no pain, no grief, no tears in his face. It seemed as though all the emotions Zero had come here and had been battling all the while had blurred, faded, and disappeared, leaving behind one single state of being.

            "You are truly a Demon…" Sigma hissed, feeling a familiar sensation of fear creeping over him.

            _Insanity…that's all he is now…insanity…_

_            **Madness in Red, my boy Sigma. **_The Virus cackled, beaming as it looked at its forgotten self. **_You have finally managed in doing what I myself could not…_**

**_            You've returned Zero to me…every bit as insane as when I left him._**

****Zero's laugh ceased. His jaw twitched for a moment, then deepened into a toothy, waiting smile. And his eyes burned.

            With one yowling animalistic scream, Zero…

            The Demon resurrected…

            Charged at Sigma. And he could already taste the blood.

            It seemed as if everything that they had been fighting for would be for nothing, the four warriors around the weapon of Ice Beacon realized as that monolith to MI9's insane hatred stood against their initial furious attack, and would do so again and again, until it was too late, and the signal transmitted.

            "Terrific." Doan murmured, with all of his usual candor. "Any bright ideas?"

            "Praying, maybe." Wycost answered back, shaking his head. Still, he continued to build up his Buster's charge. "I'm not a real religious sort of person, but this time I think we need a miracle."

            And then, as if heaven smiled down on the weary saviors of the reploid race…that miracle came.

            The ground began to shake in the region around Wycost and Pharaoh Man, jarring the two off of their balance for a moment. Wycost turned about, staring slack jawed as a ten foot wide circular depression of ice began to glow a brilliant yellow and white, then exploded outwards, atomized moments later by a brilliant beam of plasma with electrical waves crackling angrily around it.

            "What in the blazes…" Doan called out over his comm. His question, as malformed as it was answered itself.

            In a blazing fury of bright white light, a pair of figures shot out from the hastily conceived tunnel, something falling from the two as they cleared the lip of the tunnel and hovered fifteen feet off of the ground…

            A foot, Bastion's, impacted on the ground beside Wycost, scaring the Bronx Bomber for a moment, then sickening him. "Jesus…what did they do to you?!" He called up, relieved to see his friend and Bristol alive again. Bastion nodded weakly, feeling the sudden deprivation of his leg more heavily than its initial near severation.

            "Not enough."

            Bristol stared slack jawed at the gleaming metallic device standing out of the ruins of Ice Beacon, shaking her head. "Of course…backups on backups. MI9 is paranoid to the last as always."

            "Blast it, we don't have TIME!!!" Allegro screamed over the comms, cursing at them all. "This thing goes off in less than thirty seconds, and we haven't put a DENT into it!!"

            Bristol's face became hard as she stared at the device, then shook her head. "Bastion…fly me to the center."

            The Desert Angel complied, taking her there in a heartbeat. Eyes hard, she scrutinized the entire device, jumping down out of Bastion's arms and feeling towards where the wiry antenna had stood in the middle.

            **_"Twenty seconds to signal transfer…"_**

            Bristol stood up, her face grim. "We don't have much time, but we CAN do this!!"

            "How?!" Wycost hollered. "The thing's resisting our plasmafire!!"

            "Not well enough." Bristol snapped. "Allegro, get over here and jam your staff in the CENTER of the dish!!"

            The reploid complied, dash jumping into the monstrosity and stabbing his beam staff's blade deep into the slot where the antenna had laid. The black beam staff sang angrily, but didn't budge after the metallic middle grip somehow forced itself into an immovable position. Bristol reached town and twisted a few of the power regulator knobs on the device, then looked up to the sky and nodded. Bastion came down and picked the two of them up, setting them down on the normal ice surrounding the structure.

            "Now what?" Allegro chuffed, feeling very odd without a weapon to hold. Bristol turned to them all.

            "Focus your attacks on the beam staff…the blades will act as a conduit for the energies we throw at it!"

            "You mean, we short it out??" Doan surmised.

            "And blow it to pieces." Bristol confirmed.

            **_"Fifteen seconds to signal transfer…"_**

            Wycost, Doan and Pharaoh Man took up positions around the transmitter dish, standing in a triangular pattern. Each began charging up their own plasma weaponry. Allegro stood by Pharaoh Man, having nothing better to do now that he was unarmed.

            And above them all, Bastion and Bristol hovered high in the air, Bristol readying her plasma cannon one last time.

            "Give it everything you've got…" Bristol chirped over the intercom with a shaky voice. "Everything…"

            She didn't need to finish. Every single one of them standing there knew the stakes, and didn't need them repeated. Here and now they would take their stand.

            **_"Ten seconds to signal transfer…"_**

****

            "FIRE!!!" Bristol screamed, unleashing her plasma beam down at the staff. The shot sunk into the top blade, not blowing the staff apart but instead making the blades grow angrier, wider and longer. An unsettling vibration began to eat away at the transmitter dish from the inside out.

            **_"Nine…"_**

****Bastion's wings curled around, seemingly shielding both himself and Bristol from above and the sides. With another tremendous crackling of light and energy, the lightning storm blasted away, curving around Bristol's plasma beam all the way down, joining in the power of the assault with amazing results. Now the top blade fanned out, throwing sparks in every direction and charring the dish even more.

            **_"Eight…"_**

****Roaring angrily, Wycost fired his overcharged supershot at the device, quickly holding down his trigger one last time and beginning another power storage.

            _Disengage Buster safeties…set maximum charge to Level 5._

            Inside of his head, his system protocols asked for a confirmation of such a dangerous act. Angrily, Wycost confirmed…and continued to charge.

            **_"Seven…"_**

            Doan's own blast went off, but unlike Wycost, as his supershot sunk in to the now spread out overloading plasma jammed into the heart of the beast, he began to rapid fire, shooting out what seemed to be hundreds of plasma bullets at a time. His Buster controls beeped angrily at him, warning of overheating and overload.

            Doan ignored it.

            **_"Six…"_**

            Unlike the rest who had sent off an initial shot, Pharaoh Man remained tight lipped, holding his hands above his head as his growing orb of plasmic energy grew even larger, now the size of a medium grade hovertank and still rising. "Come on…COME ON!!" He urged his particle accelerators, cursing their slowness. "Still needs to be bigger…BIGGER…"

            **_"Five…"_**

            A new light began to glow around the transmitter dish, casting a distinctive green sheen around it. Power regulators beneath the device whirred and whined, as they began to store up the required power for the intense databurst Ice Beacon had been made to generate. The fanned out plasma of Allegro's beam staff turned into a sea of rolling energy, no longer a pure black, but a distinctive light gray, as all the sources of plasma and energy in it morphed into a neutral color.

            **_"Four…"_**

            "God, we're not going to make it..." Allegro uttered quietly. Beside him, Pharaoh Man shook his head.

            "Don't you say that…don't you DARE say that!!" Pharaoh Man shouted back.

            Above, Bastion grunted, feeling a surge of power backflash through his body, causing him to spasm for a brief moment. Bristol's arm wrapped around his neck tightened. "Hold on, Bastion, just hold on…" She pleaded. He growled, pushing even more energy through his wings despite the pain that the overloading electrical energies gave his traumatized body.

            "FRY ALREADY!!"

            **_"Three…"_**

            The energies of the transmitter dish and the still building plasma bomb continued to charge up even farther. Bastion's electrical discharge suddenly jumped to even greater destructive power, a blazing stream of crackling lightning bright enough to blind roaring down to the center of the dish, and the overloading beam staff that acted as a lightning rod. The blazing fury of Bastion's attack started a near instantaneous chain reaction, destabilizing the plasma…and though nobody could see it, the control program and circuitry of Allegro's beam staff finally shorted out, unable to withstand the attack. No longer able to hold in the intense energies it wasn't designed for, the metallic cylinder shorted out and then vaporized, destroyed by the power it had sought to tame.

            The groaning whine of MI9's grand culmination to The Cleansing sped up even faster, as if racing against the destabilizing plasma energies. The gray power surging over the dish transformed itself again, turning into a brilliant blue and white morphing lake of power, flowing back and forth with no control.

            Pharaoh Man's charge had now built up to the size of a large jet fighter, straining every inch of his weapon's circuitry. The plasmic energy he held in his hands was now strong enough his systems were screaming at him, warning of imminent overload and destabilization. Cringing from sparks of the power flying loose and raining down on his head, the goldenrod and silver colored robot grinned from ear to ear. Never before had he ever wielded such might, never before had he felt like he was firing the sun itself. And what better target than the one before him?? The robot opened his mouth wide and let a scream echo about from the depths of his spirit, finally flinging his arms down and throwing the massive globe of superheated plasmic energy loose. It soared on, straight and true and melting the ice as it went, then finally connected with the lake of its fellow plasma energies atop the dish. But it was so intense, the blast was unable to sink in, so it rode the wave instead as a massive bubble of orange light, peppered from the side by Doan's furious rapid fire shots. It was only then, after Allegro yelped in surprise, that Pharaoh Man noticed his shot had melted a three foot deep indentation in the ice while he had been charging it, transforming the ice into a steaming puddle of water.

            **_"Two…"_**

            Wycost also screamed, feeling the surging pain of his overloading Buster push back up his arm, warning him that at any moment the shot could explode and take his whole arm off, if not immolating him entirely. Gritting his teeth, he watched as the locus of light around his Buster shifted from purple to a bright oxygenated blood red…

            _My God…so this is a Level 5 blast…_

He had nothing left, and the blast was as strong as he could make it without throwing himself into that messed up locus of power.

            _Isaiah…I hope you're with me, I need you more than ever…_

            He fired, his Buster firing not a sphere or a flaming fireball of light, but a bright and brilliant arrow of purple, red and blue plasma energy, a pointed bolt with a shaft that seemed to stretch on for meters without stopping. The backblast from his shot was so intense, Wycost was shoved backwards onto the ground, unable to do anything except watch his shot flare on, a final desperate cry of survival for every last reploid on Earth.

            High above, Bristol wrapped her arm even tighter around Bastion's neck, pushing her face against his chest. _So much is at stake here…We can't lose, I can't have lost…no, that future I saw is NOT the one that will be, it WILL NOT BE!!_

Bastion also embraced Bristol pulling her close with both of his arms as his wings continued to scream out their thunderous fury. _MI9 is a group dedicated to genocide, to hatred and cold-blooded murder…So was the Jihad, and I left that…I can't change the Jihad, but I can change this. This, more than being a Maverick Hunter, is the truest calling, my ultimate penance!! MI9 will not succeed, not while there is love and friendship and laughter in this world…not while there are friends and people I care about, not while I am alive, and not while __Bristol__ breathes life! Here I make my stand, Ice Beacon, here we all do!! For all reploids…FOR EVERYONE, FOR HAPPINESS, AND FOR LOVE, YOU WILL NOT WIN!!!_

Below, Allegro bit his lip, unable to tear his eyes away from the roiling sea of plasma almost ready to immolate Ice Beacon's core. _Andante…If you were still alive, what would you do here?? You sacrificed yourself to save my life, and for that I carry enough guilt for the both of us…I've worked with Horn for weeks now, trying to learn so that next time…the next time I fly off the handle, my friends won't die because of me. But there's one person I've never been able to make penance for, and that's you._

_            Andante…if Ice Beacon falls, if we save the reploid race…_

_            Then, will you forgive me??_

Pharaoh Man shielded his eyes from the blinding light with a raised gauntlet, now unable to do anything but watch…and think. _Kalinka, I'm sorry I ran off like that…but now I realize that there's so much more that me and my brothers are capable of doing for this world. Perhaps you don't understand, you might never understand…But Cossack died and left us a legacy. Years before, back when you were a young girl, Mega Man saved the world time and time again…_

_            It's my turn now, Kalinka. I finally understand. This is what Dr. Cossack meant, what he hoped for me…I can go beyond any robot ever has, I already have! This world still needs heroes, Kalinka…And I'm willing to volunteer._

_            But I'm coming back, Kalinka…don't fall apart on me, I'm coming back._

Doan hovered slightly above the ground, crying out at long last as his Buster froze up and finally blew off a piece of armor covering from the charging assembly, letting ozone tinted smoke rise up. He clutched at his wounded arm, staring down at Ice Beacon as he realized he had done all he could. _Heh…Guess I overdid it again, Cleo. I'll bet you're going to yell at me when I get back, tell me I'm a damn fool and all that…_

_            I hope so. You're the only thing in my life that lets me smile…_

_            But then again, if we have succeeded here today, if Ice Beacon is destroyed…_

_            We'll have something else to smile about now, won't we??_

            Wycost lay there on the snow, his sunglare visor inactive and the blinding lights staring him flush in the face. _Isaiah…God, if I could repent for all the mistakes, all the people I've killed in my life, I could. Maybe this is that final way, the ultimate equalizer. _

_            Truth be told, when I started out on this damn fool quest, I had no idea how deep this would go. Certainly not as deep as it did. And I think I've come to understand your cryptic dream messages a little better…though that first one still bothers me._

_            Who can replace you?? You were the only friend I had that was true and honest, who didn't associate with me merely because of my skills as a warrior. 'There will be another'?? I still don't know what you meant._

_            My slate's finally clean, buddy. No guilt left. No guilt at all. I just hope that all of this, all of this torment and this road to salvation hasn't all led up to a dead end._

_            Not just for me, Isaiah, it's not just about me anymore, is it?? It's about everyone now, the entire population of the reploid race…no, the entire WORLD…_

_            I suppose in the end, others can damn us…_

_            But we can always redeem ourselves._

The plasma riding on top of Ice Beacon's backup transmitter dish quivered and shook angrily, flashing color after iridescent color. Wycost's final shot, the ultra charged plasma arrow sunk into the orange glowing plasmic globe of light…

            And then the ground shook and the sky roared. Every last little bit of plasma and electrical energy surging about on Ice Beacon at last could take no more, and ignited in a furious and expanding white fireball.

            As the noise washed over them all, as that furious flashfire of backblast overwhelmed them, the warriors on Ice Beacon all cried out one final time, placing all their hopes, all their dreams, and all the lives and dreams of every reploid on Earth onto that final blistering explosion.

            And high above, rocked back and forth by the tremendous sonic shockwaves of displaced air, cradled tightly in the loving arms of Bastion, Bristol reared her head up to the heavens. Her blond hair flew wild in the screaming wind, and she opened her mouth and screamed from the depth of her soul.

            "WE LIIIIVE!!!"

            Below, nobody could hear the final tick of the countdown clock, moments before the plasma explosion overtook the communication speakers…

            **_"One…"_**

            No words were spoken between Zero and Sigma as they fought their way through the underground complex. In a duel between enraged and possessed beings, there was no need for them. Their weapons and expressions did all the talking.

            Sigma's face was a full grimace, unchanging and unceasing as the grinning Demon charged at him, saber swinging in a flurry of stabs, thrusts, and slashes. Both of his arm's weapons were employed, struggling to hold off even a haphazard defense against the transformed Zero's might. The two moved so fast that the attacks and parries seemed to occur at blur speed, the deflected energies streaming out and scorching the walls.

            Zero's red eye tinted grin grew wider as he pushed Sigma through what seemed to be a lounge area of the underground facility, augmenting his saber strikes with a furious hand to hand combat routine that held to no particular style of martial arts, but seemed chaotic in its tone. Chaotic as it was, with Zero swinging his saber around at the same time, Sigma had few ways to take advantage of him.

            "What kind of a monster were you…" Sigma muttered in disbelief, slamming down his TitaniTefloAlloy claw and pushing Zero's saber to the ground, trapping hand in a crushing vicegrip on the concrete floor. Zero looked startled for a moment and Sigma grinned, bringing his other hand around for a deafening slash from his plasma gauntlet.

            Zero looked positively inhumane as he registered the glint from Sigma's plasma dagger and let his grin grow even wider. In one smooth motion, he caught Sigma's arm at the wrist and pulled, knocking the Maverick King off balance as he pulled himself up. Sigma's eyes went wide again, unable to do anything as the smaller, more animalistic Crimson Hunter curled his legs in, then slammed both boots into Sigma's stomach. Despite himself, Sigma got the wind knocked out of him as he stumbled backwards, slightly dazed by the unpredictable blow.

            _His style…it's pure fury, that's it…virtually no way to counter, he's totally unpredictable…_

Zero brought his saber up, now freed of Sigma's claw, and threw it up into the air before catching it again, the blade inverted and pointing to the ground. Activating his dash thrusters, he flung himself at Sigma, a long and loud cry his only expression of emotion from his tightened face.

            The Maverick King slammed against the flatscreen television that his Mavericks had set up on the wall, cracking the plasma display and shorting the assembly out. After a few furious moments of blinking, he noticed Zero's attack aimed for him.

            There was no time for any real reaction…and perhaps there lay the key. With nothing but desperation guiding his hand, Sigma stabbed out with his plasma dagger gauntlet. The blade crackled as its point connected with Zero's saber, jarring the blade to the side. But the momentum of Sigma's strike carried the dagger on, scraping it noisily along the length of Zero's blade before skipping…and then piercing into Zero's arm, just above the elbow. The Maverick Hunter let out an angry scream as the tip of the plasma dagger tore through armor, synthflesh, and then through wiring and the internal skeleton. But it didn't take the arm off.

            Grinning from ear to ear now as he sucked in that angry cry of pain from Zero, Sigma engaged his plasma gauntlet's special feature.

            Before Zero's startled eyes, the single blade fanned out and became three thinner ones, slicing through the width of his arm with deadly efficiency. A spray of hot purple blood accompanied the sickening cutting noise, and then the severed limb fell to the ground with a thud, the hand still gripped around the saber, the now frozen fingers and thumb keeping Zero's weapon on.

            Zero yelped in shock, unable to do anything as his arm was sliced off of his body and collapsed to the floor, dripping blood from the open and messy wound. Sigma gave him no chance for recovery, bringing his leg up and kneeing the Crimson Hunter in the gut. This did more damage than Zero could with the same motion, and Zero gasped for air as the spiked kneecaps Sigma had dug in and pierced into the thinner armor around his abdomen, letting more of Zero's life energy fly free.

            In one final motion, Sigma let the momentum of his stomach kick carry Zero up into the air, then promptly kicked him across the room and into the wall, shattering the concrete with a tremendous shuddering noise. Badly battered and injured, Zero slumped to the floor, his eyes glazing over in pain, his mouth open in a silent bloody scream.

            Sigma stared at the tattered remains of his foe, sneering for a moment. To add insult, he kicked Zero's severed arm next to the Hunter, the useless limb still keeping the saber active.

            "Perhaps you aren't the Maverick I thought you were…" He mused darkly. "Thirteen years ago, you would have laid me flat…and back then I was the one with the lost arm." He smirked at that. "It seems now that our roles have reversed."

            From the collapsed mess that was the Crimson Hunter came nothing for a few moments. Dully, Zero stared up at the ceiling, knowing full well the damage his systems had taken. And yet…he was still alive. An impulse shot through the stump of his right arm, as his body tried to connect to his severed hand. It caused a brief moment of pain, but that pain defined Zero then.

            Pain…meant he was alive. And pain made him all the stronger.

            His mouth twitched in the room's low light, slowly but surely curling up until he was grinning again, baring his teeth.

            And then he laughed. Softly at first, inaudible…and then increasing, with greater crescendo and shrillness until he was nearly shrieking, his mind gone.

            Sigma mentally recoiled from Zero then. The sound Zero was producing was a frightening one to hear, as the last dregs of the blond haired Hunter's consciousness seemed to bleed out of him and leave an insane and psychotic golem in his place.

            Sigma felt his fear returning…for a while, he had pushed it aside, merely thought Zero was reacting on emotions alone. Now, he realized that the Virus had been right all along…

            _No…_

_            **Yes…**_

****_God, what have I done?! What have I turned him into, what kind of Demon…_

_            **Precisely…He is as he was at birth. My…masterpiece…**_

            Zero rose from the ground, pushing off of it with his single hand. Unsteadily, as if coming out of a drunken stupor, he brought himself to his feet, then reaching a hand down and grasping at his bleeding stomach. Sigma's stomach turned on itself as Zero cackled at the sticky wetness that caked itself onto his white gloved fingers, then reached up and wiped his hand across of his face, leaving long streaks of bright purple, or dark red, blood across of his face. Before Sigma could cringe more, Zero reached down and picked up his severed arm by its end and whipped the whole assembly around, cackling even louder. His severed hand remained tightly clenched around the saber's hilt, keeping the blade active. Content it still worked, Zero returned to his relaxed, lackadaisical posture and grinned at Sigma again through the darkness.

            It was at that moment the Maverick King realized he was going to die.

            Forty five seconds later, the two charged into the central computer room of the underground facility, both screaming with all their might but for different reasons. Zero screamed for the overwhelming sensations his new body seemed to revel in, and Sigma screamed because half of his left shoulder was missing and Zero had just succeeded in tearing a deep gash into the side of his leg.

            Weakly, Sigma slashed across in front of him, trying to set Zero off guard. The raging maniac merely dropped low to the ground and let the swipe pass over his head. Sigma's second strike came down, aiming for the top of Zero's head.

            Grinning from ear to ear, no longer thinking but merely reacting, Zero bicycle kicked where he stood, activating his dash thrusters as he did. Sigma's strike was blunted aside as the point of Zero's boot crushed into Sigma's wrist and shattered the artificial nerve…and to make matters worse, Sigma found his arm basted in a roiling sea of synthesized hydrogen flames. The Maverick King screamed and leaped back, and Zero pressed on.

            Hastily, Sigma slashed down with his burning and now skittish arm holding the TitaniTefloAlloy claw.

            Zero stopped laughing then…he even stopped grinning.

            With one smooth sidestep and slash, Zero severed Sigma's arm from his body, prompting an angry cry of pain and humiliation out of the Maverick King. When Sigma brought his other arm across in hopes of ending Zero's life with a quick stab of his triple plasma claw, Zero seemed to sidestep again, blurring into the shadows for a brief moment before severing off that arm as well.

            Falling into shock, his emotional circuits overloading in terror and fear, Sigma collapsed backwards. Zero turned about to face him, his upper torso hidden in the creeping shadows of the room with its monotone green display lights.

            Calmly, with murderer's precision, the left red boot of Zero stepped towards Sigma. Trembling now, the armless Sigma scooted back, scrunching himself up.

            Another step. Sigma treaded back further, nearly colliding with the command chair in the technology heavy room. Glowing green display panels shone down on them, casting a dark and malevolent light throughout the room.

            Zero brought his severed arm and saber up in front of his face, holding the blade between his eyes and staring down at Sigma in a calm and deadened emotionless state.

            "Mercy…" Sigma rasped, his eyes wide and pleading. Zero seemed to pause for a moment as those words echoed about inside of his head.

            _Mercy…_

            "Mercy, Zero…Don't do this, don't…" Sigma pleaded louder, shaking his head with fear leeching out of every pore of his being.

            The Maverick King, scourge of the world for more than a decade was at long last terrified…terrified for his life, such an endless thing as it was. But now he feared for it.

            His fear was delicious…

            Zero's mouth twitched for a moment, then widened back into a grin. A grin more malevolent than any given before. Before, there had been raging insanity in Zero's features.

            Now, there was a sheer malevolence, a cat standing over a disemboweled and trembling mouse with claws extended. And to make things all the better was Zero's Cheshire cat grin.

            Sigma was terrified of Zero, frightened to death and paralyzed…And that made Zero all the stronger, all the more terrifying. He could sense Sigma's fear, and he relished in it.

            Zero laughed a little, stepping towards Sigma again. The Maverick yelped, scrambling back so fast he knocked the back of his head into the console seat and caused stars to flash before his eyes.

            Zero laughed louder as he stepped over Sigma and raised his arm and saber above him. Sigma was beyond any rationality now, a complete victim to the fight and flight syndrome present in all intelligences…that animalistic instinct that derived fear.

            Sigma screamed.

            And then Zero swung down, chopping Sigma to bits. Hacking and hacking, all the while laughing and howling like a perverse little boy dissecting insects or lizards, basking in the pain and fear of Sigma as he tore the Maverick King limb from limb and into pieces. Blood sprayed onto Zero, all over Zero…blood from Sigma's systems coated him from head to toe, and yet it only drove him on further, made his butchering more frenzied, more gruesome and violent…

            And finally, thankfully, the screams of Sigma ended. They had to. There was virtually nothing left of Sigma that was recognizable, especially not his face which…

            Zero stood there, gasping for delicious air, sucking in the fumes of his fresh kill…and then laughed, reared his head back and shrieked to everyone and no one of his latest sadistic crime.

            Nothing remained of Sigma, his body was so shredded it might have been put through a meat grinder. A seeping and sticky pool of the Maverick's blood flooded out underneath the remains, the remnants of Sigma's lifestream that didn't douse Zero's blood red armor a deeper and darker shade of crimson death.

            And Zero laughed…

            Laughed because he was gone, and the Demon had returned.

            It was a few moments later before anyone felt like communicating, much less moving. The explosion of high intensity plasma energy had been a show indeed, knocking them all to the ground and blinding and deafening all in its thunderous roar. But the question that hung on all their minds, seconds later…

            "Did we destroy it??" Allegro moaned, blinking his eyes back into focus.

            Wycost lay on the ground, letting the aches and pains of the day sit a little longer on his worn out frame. "I dunno. You feel any crazier?"

            "I feel BANGED UP, is how I feel…" Allegro groused back in reply over the comm.

            "I've felt the effect of a Berserker Beacon before." Doan spoke up calmly, rising from his bed of ice and melted water. He shook his head and stared at the smoking crater that had once been Ice Beacon's transmitter dish. "And if that thing had worked like it was supposed to…"

            Doan closed his eyes for a moment…And smiled.

            "No gentlemen, I am afraid that Ice Beacon did not succeed."

            "Terrific. I'll be sure to let the newspapers know." Pharaoh Man laughed, as much as he could without causing further strain on his already overtaxed systems. "I'll be damned…we actually did it."

"Yeah." Wycost said, shutting his eyes and smiling as he lay there and looked towards heaven. "Yeah, we did."

            Some distance away, Bastion came to with a pulsing migraine.

            "God…anyone get the name of that bus??" He mumbled quietly. The shooting pain in his missing leg jolted him up the rest of the way, and confirmed for him that they were still very much alive.

            Bristol let out a gentle, dazed moan. Bastion looked down to find her still cradled against him, her plasma cannon discarded some distance off, and both of her arms now wrapped around him. He blinked a few times more and smiled, lifting his wings up and off of the two of them to let the rays of the sun hit the side of her face.

            "Wake up, Bristol. We did it." He whispered quietly.

            Numbly, she looked into his face, not seeming to recognize anyone or anything…

            _Screw this…_Bastion thought, reaching his arms down and pulling her face to his.

            With a swift and fiery movement that felt so exhilarating, he kissed her like there was no tomorrow, because there almost hadn't been. And after a few seconds, she responded back, just as needy and just as passionate.

            When they finally stopped, she looked into his face with a beaming, but ragged smile.

            "We did it…" She smiled, tears starting to run from her eyes. "We actually did it…"

            "Yeah, we did." Allegro chirped up, walking over beside them and holding the side of his head. "And when you two are done rolling around in the snowbanks, I'll gladly prepare to push on out of here and back to somewhere where it's WARM."

            Bristol blushed a visible red in her cheeks. Bastion merely grinned and waved Allegro off, somehow no longer caring that his leg was missing or that they'd been interrupted again by a friendly interloper.

            They were ALIVE.

            About a minute later, everyone was back on their feet and examining the flooded, melted and incinerated remains of Ice Beacon's top secret and ingenious, but ultimately flawed transmitter dish.

            The icy outer shell, it seemed, had been little more than an amplifier, meant both to protect and hide the true signal source, the metallic transmitter dish they had been forced to destroy. Once the icy concave transmitter dish had been shattered apart and turned useless by the attacks of Doan, Wycost, Allegro and Pharaoh Man, the backup system had kicked in, forcing the true transmitter dish to rise up from its tomb and expose itself in broad daylight for optimum signal transmission ratio.

            That backup transmitter, the true one, was now a melted crying stem of itself. As if a flower had existed there, it now seemed as though the entire flower bud had been cut off with jagged scissors and the shattered stem had cried rivulets of liquid down the sides.

            Allegro stared mournfully at the remains of Ice Beacon, his hands feeling unusually empty. The motion didn't go unnoticed by Bristol, who flinched as recognition set in.

            "I'm sorry, Allegro…It was a risky process, and if there had been some way for me to save your beam staff…"

            "Aaw, fuckit." Allegro mumbled, scratching the side of his head. "It was just a weapon, and the only sentimental value it had was that Andante used the same damn thing. But now that I know it's an MI9 weapon, I'm kind of glad to get rid of it…it always did have a menacing air around it." He turned around and grinned at them all. "Besides, I'm betting that you and Horn can make me a better one."

            "But your brother's memory…"

            "It's a memory." Allegro refuted, shutting down Bristol's attempt at self-deridement. "Memories aren't dependent on old weapons or photos." He tapped the side of his head. "My brother's memory is carried with me up here. And that's all I need."

            "Unbelievable…" Doan said suddenly, shaking his head as he stared down at the mess. "MI9 went to a lot of trouble to put this together."

            "They nearly caused the Apocalypse." Bristol sighed, shaking off the last vestiges of her horrible nightmare…now it had no foundation, and she had no reason to fear it. "But they didn't. Thanks to all of you."

            "Yeah." Bastion nodded, turning towards her. "But we have you to thank for this victory more than anyone. It was your idea that destroyed Ice Beacon when we thought we had no time left…Bristol, you're the true hero here."

            "But I'm also the true villain…" Bristol argued, pointing down to the remains. "This is a product of my ideas, my inventions…"

            "Your ideas and inventions aren't evil, Bristol. Only MI9's figureheads deemed their improper use." Pharaoh Man interjected sagely. "But they failed. And I'll tell you why, in a quote Mega Man told me once long ago."

            "What was that?" Wycost asked, lifting an eyebrow. Pharaoh Man seemed to smile a little wider and point to the sky.

            "The only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." He looked around. "Or, as the case may be, good men and women."

            "Hooray for politically correct quotes." Wycost chuffed. He turned about some, then froze. "Wait…"

            He turned and faced Bastion and Bristol, face cold. "Where's Willow??"

            The exhilaration blanched out of Bristol's face quicker than water rushed from a shattered glass. "Oh, God…"

            "There was an MI9 Enhanced Agent named Jowers who met us inside of the corridors." Bastion explained. "Willow…decided to fight Jowers herself, so we could go on ahead. There's a high likelihood…she isn't alive right now. Otherwise, she'd be up here right now." Bastion tried to keep as straight a face as possible, not an easy thing to do when one was floating fifteen centimeters off of the ground because you were missing a foot, which he carried in the crook of his arm.

            "Which means she's still down there." Wycost grumbled, biting his lip. He swiveled his head around a bit and scanned the horizon. "Guys, I think it's time we left for home."

            "Actually, if you all don't mind…" Pharaoh Man began, lifting a finger, "I think I'd like to go back to Cossack's Citadel. I need to keep a promise I made to someone."

            "I don't think we'll hold it against you." Doan replied. "And thank you for your help. Without it, we might very well have failed."

            "Of that, I have no doubt." Pharaoh Man smiled, folding his arms and vanishing in a beam of warplight, shooting for the stratosphere. Doan blinked a few times, then harrumphed and turned back to the group.

            "Well, he's certainly cocky enough to be a reploid."

            One by one, the warriors who had taken on Ice Beacon all warped out for the MHHQ, save Pharaoh Man who had left for his home. And then only Bristol and Wycost were left, standing in the middle of a once again desolate wasteland.

            Bristol folded her arms, staring at the Bronx Bomber with puzzled eyes.

            "Why are you staying?? Why aren't you going home??"

            "I think you know the two part answer to that question just as well as I do." Wycost answered back, keeping his visor up so Bristol could stare into his battle hardened eyes.

            Bristol blinked a few times, then finally nodded her head.

            "Yes…" She seemed to cry a little then, smiling. "The first one's obvious, you want to eliminate Ice Beacon fully. But now I see the second one. There's no way that Willow would have lost to Jowers…no conceivable way. But Wycost…she might well have decided that the only thing she had left to live for was her vengeance on him."

            "Terrific." Wycost whistled through his teeth. "Just what I don't need, a suicidal reploid…"

            "If you're going to look for her, look fast." Bristol urged. "Find her, Wycost…bring her back to me. And to all of us."

            "I'll do my best, kid." Wycost assured Bristol with a slight smile and a halfhearted salute.

            Bristol gave one last longing look at the Bronx Bomber, then vanished off into the blue as well.

            Wycost sighed and lowered his sunglare visor, activated his thermal scan feature and walked over towards the makeshift escape hole that Bristol and Bastion had created in their route to the surface.

            "Willow, don't you dare die on me…"

            _Not when I'm finally beginning to get along with ya…_

            Horn could only do so much down in the Emergency Room before the sheer overload of it all got to him. Hazil could see it in the old reploid's trembling hands and shocky features. Subtly, Hazil clicked his tongue and jerked his head towards the door.

            "Get up to the Medical Bay…You've done all you can here."

            "Yeah." Horn replied back weakly, wiping the blood off of his hands and onto a sterile towel. "Hazil, how did you do this for thirteen years without losing yourself??"

            "Who says I didn't?" The Medical Reploid harrumphed with a sad smile. He turned back to his work on reattaching Jad's arm and shook his head. "I suppose after a while, a part of you dies. And then stuff like this doesn't bother you anymore, unless you want it to."

            "I'm sorry." Horn replied, looking at Hazil in pity.

            Hazil kept his eyes down on his work, connecting a pair of severed neural wires. "So am I, Horn. So am I."

            Exhausted and emotionally drained, Horn wandered back up to the Medical Bay and walked into the room, sighing in relief as he sunk into the reclining office chair Hazil had purloined from the supply room…it looked new, too. Probably hadn't seen much use, maybe a month and a half's worth, or two…

            He stared around the room, face quiet as he watched the beeping monitors and bright lights. Quiet.

            A part of him felt ashamed at what he'd turned into down there…after so many years, the sight of maimed and badly injured reploids still upset him. In a way, he'd let Hazil down…

            In a lot of ways, he'd let everyone down. URFAWP was a bust, ending up becoming Sigma's personal plaything. His work for the Israelis got him money, but killed countless reploids and humans alike. And recently, he'd sent Bristol off on a quest to find herself that ended up nearly getting the poor girl killed, and began a chain reaction of events that led up to today and Ice Beacon. In fact, as he sat up straighter, Horn began to puzzle over whether or not they'd succeeded…

            His question was answered as four brilliant beams of warplight slammed down onto the ground in front of him, coalescing into Bristol, Bastion, Allegro, and Doan. Horn yelped in surprise and fell out of his chair, prompting odd looks from all of them as he picked himself back up.

            "Sweet buttery Jesus…" He groaned, rubbing at his head. "You could have at least given me a warning."

            "Why??" Allegro replied with a grin. "There's nothing left to warn anyone about now."

            Horn blinked as the statement sunk in, then positively beamed. "You guys…you guys did it."

            Bristol stepped away from the hovering Bastion and nodded once, her eyes glistening with happiness. "Yes…yes, we did. The reploid race…and the future…are saved."

            "Where's Hazil??" Bastion spoke up, lifting his severed leg so Horn could recognize it. Horn lifted both eyebrows as he gaped at Bastion's injury. "Horn, don't stare. You'll blow out your other eye." Bastion mumbled in embarrassment.

            "Yeah, you'd like that." Horn groused back, rubbing at his normal reploid optic. "I always figured you'd come back for the other eye some day."

            "Whiner." Bastion replied with a weak smirk. He floated over to a medical cot and lay himself down, then forced his wings to retract back into their storage compartment. In a flicker of shimmering light, they complied, letting him lie by gravity alone. He let out an exhausted sigh and put his leg on his stomach. "Whenever Hazil gets up here, tell him I want my dancing shoes back."

            "I'll write a memo." Horn chuckled drily. "Conk off, Bastion. You deserve the rest." He looked around the room to the rest of them. "As a matter of fact, I think you all need a power nap. Lord knows I feel like one after all of this."

            "Not quite yet." Doan said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I too have to dash off somewhere else before I recharge."

            "I'll bet." Horn remarked, smiling knowingly. "Tell Cleo I said hi."

            Doan harrumphed and let the barest hint of a smile, which for him was as wide as a grin. "I'll be sure to tell her that."

            Doan walked out of the door, and Allegro hopped up onto a medical cot as well, finally letting his body relax.

            "Boy, it's been a long day." Allegro exhaled, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. "Oh, and Horn…you and Bristol have a little project to do for me."

            "Just what's that, my impetuous understudy??" Horn queried quizzically. Allegro grinned, beginning to activate his stasis subroutines.

            "You get to build me…a new beam staff."

            Allegro had passed out before Horn could issue a complaint. And then only Bristol and Horn were left standing. Bastion was still awake, though.

            Bristol walked over next to him, bringing his hand down to hers and placing something in it. Bastion frowned as the solid metallic weight settled in, cooling his palm. "What's this??"

            He lifted it up, blinking a few times before he realized what it was. And he smiled as he did.

            It was Bristol's locket…the silver heart shaped pendant with a photo of the two of them inside of it. She beamed down at him, snuffling away a tear.

            "You gave this back to me yesterday…now I give it to you."

            "God, I love you." Bastion answered back, pulling the locket to his chest and smiling back at her. "You remembered…"

            "I remembered that when I left the MHHQ after Sigma's Sixth…I left you a promise that one day I would come back, after I had found my answers." Bristol put her hand on top of his and squeezed it. "I'm back, Bastion. From here until the day we die…I'm here with you."

            Bastion held out his smile a few moments more…and then passed into stasis himself.

            Horn cleared his throat and stared at the two of them with a grin. "So when's the wedding?"

            Bristol turned about and looked at Horn, blushing a bright beet red. The elderly reploid guffawed. "What, you think after a show like that I'm gonna let the two of you avoid the marriage noose?"

            "There was a time you and he were dire enemies." Bristol reminded him, her face returning to normal. "Why would you choose now to do so much for us??"

            "Because I've learned something, Bristol." Horn remarked as he wheeled over a medical cart next to Bastion. "It's easier to keep friends than it is enemies…and friends don't try to kill you all the time."

            He looked over to her, a new wave of concern washing over his face.

            "Waittasec…where's Pharaoh Man and Wycost and Willow??"

            "Pharaoh Man went back home." Bristol explained. "And Wycost and Willow…"

            Willow's eyes had shut long ago. Now she just waited for death to come.

            It was a bittersweet moment for her, lying there as death crept closer and closer. Jowers was dead…finally dead, no longer able to hurt her in any way now. His wound, as gruesome as it was had finally sealed itself, but the blood loss and internal damage had done its work. One by one, her systems went fuzzy and then sluggish. Her legs had gone first, tingling in their final throes before simply shutting off. It had spread up her body since then, until now she couldn't move her arms, could barely twitch her fingers, and couldn't even crane her neck around. And her vision was beginning to go on her too.

            Under different circumstances, she might have chosen to simply drop into auto-stasis, preserve what functionality she had left and fade into blissful unconsciousness. But that wasn't the case now.

            The countdown had continued…she had heard every tick of the timer through Ice Beacon's loudspeakers. Around a minute left until the signal transfer, the speakers had droned something else on top of the normal degrading timer, but her hearing had chosen that moment to go fuzzy for a few precious seconds. Bitterly, Willow had realized by what she had heard that their mission had been a failure. The countdown had gone on…and finally stopped. With her anti-berserker system online, the Irish Banshee couldn't confirm their failure through terror. But she felt a depression rush through her that seemed to scream the same thing.

            And that was why she now chose to lie here, letting her systems die one by one until not even her memory could be salvaged. Better to die here, after her own marginal victory, than to be revived by returning MI9 forces and tortured for the rest of her days or slaughtered at their butchering and sadistic hands.

            _The banshees' wail sounds a death knell for the old, and now it seems it's my time to be embraced by that void so cold…_

And then Willow heard someone coming, and decided at that moment that dying was a very good option.

            "Figures I'd find you lying down on the job." A gruff voice said calmly, causing Willow's thoughts to stop cold. "Just give me a sign that you're still alive."

            "Wycost…" Willow croaked, barely a hoarse whisper in the quiet of the room. That was the most she could manage with what little power she had left.

            Wycost relaxed in a gesture she could not see, exhaling in relief.

            "Well, thank God for small miracles. You had me worried there for a moment, kid." Wycost said, allowing himself to ease the tension off of his worried face. "I thought I'd have to drag you back home in a body bag for a while."

            "Sorry to disappoint you." Willow replied, a few precious tears of relief finding their way out of the corners of her eyes. "You…you did it, didn't you?"

            "Ice Beacon didn't transmit in time." Wycost assured her, kneeling down and patting her on the shoulder. "It came close…but somehow, using everything we had, we shut it down."

            "But what about the future…" Willow asked suddenly, her heart falling a little. "What if…they try to do this again?"

            "Oh, I doubt that." Wycost chuckled. "It took me a bit of work, but I managed to weave my way through this maze and into Ice Beacon's core computer banks. Blew them all to Holy Hell, and no outgoing transmissions with the UBF were sent ANYWHERE. The only copy of Bristol's Universal Bitchy Frequency MI9 had was right here on the premises, and I've taken care of that."

            "Then it finally is over…" Willow sniffled, opening her eyes for a moment before shutting them, the blinding lights searing across her sensitive eyes.

            Wycost tsked as he watched her flinch, then reached up a hand and recalled his helmet off of his head, leaving his black hair to flow free and his black sunglare glasses perched in his crow's nest. With one smooth motion, he plucked his favorite eyewear off of himself and placed it on Willow's face, adjusting the length for a moment until it fit perfectly. "Try that again now."

            Slowly, Willow opened her eyes back up, to find herself staring up at a smiling Wycost through a shield of darkness that allowed her failing eyes to see perfectly.

            "Can you see me now?" Wycost asked her.

            "You could use a shave." Willow laughed, crying a little more.

            "Aaw, everybody says that." Wycost grumbled. "Me, I kind of like my five o' clock shadow." He looked down at Willow and frowned. "Just how much damage can you take? Can you move??"

            "No, I can't." Willow admitted. "Jowers…got me pretty good."

            Wycost looked over. "Is that the guy pincushioned to the wall??"

            Willow shut her eyes. "Yes. But now he's dead, and that's all that matters."

            "Sounds like you have a little more than just the typical MI9 grudge against him." Wycost mumbled, reaching his strong arms underneath her and lifting her up. He grunted for a moment as his arm complained at him, then exhaled. "Am I right?"

            "Some day, when ye and I sit down and swap stories laddie, I'll let ye know." Willow answered, keeping her eyes shut. She couldn't have opened them if she'd tried.

            "Just one last question, Willow." Wycost remarked, holding her limp and responsiveless body against him as he walked towards his exit again. "Bristol mentioned…before I came down to look for you…that you might have chosen to die down here."

            "Did she now…" Willow replied back matter-of factly.

            "This Jowers character held some bad blood for you." Wycost continued. "Do you mean to tell me that you thought once you'd completed your unfinished business with him that you were ready to cash in your chips??"

            "Why?? There was nothing left to live for." Willow answered. Wycost stopped walking and looked down into her cold face.

            "What about Bristol, huh?? She still looks to you for protection, I can see that…"

            "She has that Bastion person now…she doesn't need me." Willow refuted sadly. "Nobody needs me."

            "You're wrong, Willow. We do need you." Wycost said pleadingly. He pulled her closer against himself. "_I…I…_I need you."

            Willow didn't say anything for a moment, until Wycost began his walking pace again.

            "I hope you're not getting any ideas." She warned softly. Wycost chortled.

            "Perish the thought...though, now that I think about it, there are going to be few occasions like this one in my lifetime. A beautiful and capable female lying helpless in my arms…I think I like you in this position. At least you're not trying to kill me."

            "If I had wanted to kill you, I would have." Willow mumbled softly, her voice trailing off until at last her head nodded into unconsciousness. She still wore his glasses.

            Wycost let out a long and easygoing sigh, walking on until he reached the shield emitter control room that Bristol and Bastion had escaped from. He looked up towards the sky and the brilliantly shining sunlight held promisingly to all.

            He could have sworn he felt Willow shift in his arms and curl tighter around him.

            "I swear, women are going to be the death of me yet." Wycost chuckled, looking down at Willow. "And you…you can kill me anytime."

            And then he vanished, the last warrior from Ice Beacon in tow.

            It was time to go home.

            Back in the Hangar Bay of the MHHQ, a worried Cleo stared at a nonfunctioning datapadd, cursing at it. This was the last thing she needed right now…

            With her back to the door of her office, she had no way of knowing that Doan had walked in. That was, until he twirled her chair around, swept her off of her feet and kissed her with an ardor that left her breathless.

            Doan came up for air fifteen seconds later, smiling wistfully. "Hey, beautiful."

            "You idiot." Cleo giggled, kissing him back. "I was busy with something."

            A few minutes later, and a liplock for the Guiness Book of World Records later, Cleo's nonfunctioning datapadd lay on the floor, unattended.

            It was the least important thing in her life right now.

            The underground data room of Sigma's hidden base hummed with the eerie glowing green lights from the monochromatic displays. Zero's eyes glowed an amber shade through the green tinting, his weapon blazing out in its own element.

            And he laughed, reveling in the hacked heap that had once been Sigma.

            _Dead…dead, bloody dead mess, lying and screaming, splattered…_

_            **You enjoyed killing him…didn't you??**_

****_Screams, agony, pain…hearing pain, hearing screams…_

Zero cackled to himself, so beyond himself he didn't even notice the Virus's presence. It seemed to him as though he was the one mumbling all along.

            **_It feels good to kill things…they scream so loud, you can taste their fear. It tastes good, it always does. _**

****_Sigma…terrified, frightened, killed him, killed him…_

_            **And it felt good. Would you do it again, Zero??**_

****_Kill…kill…WANT kill…_

The voice laughed darkly, pleased at Zero's reply.

            **_I knew you would. And I know you want to…it aches inside of you, that need to destroy, to kill, to create suffering and terror and to revel in it. It's who you are, Zero, you were meant to destroy…_**

****_Feel so alive…so ALIVE…_

_            **Zero…do you want more?**_

****_YES._

_            **Heh…At long last, you realize it. So who would you like to destroy first??**_

****_Want kill…want the screams…The cries and terror…_

_            **Hmm, no ideas eh?? Well, I have one.**_

****_Who…_

_            **Mega. **_**_Man._****_ X._**

****

            And there, in that cold room with the blinking monochrome displays, Zero's laughing stopped.

            **_Hmm, no?? Then how about that insufferable lummox Hazil?? Oh, I've got it!! How about SIGNAS?? Surely, you want to rip that upstart infidel limb from limb…_**

****The smile faded. Somewhere within Zero, a part of himself winced, feeling the vibrant malevolent surges lessen.

            **_No…no, you can't be doubting now. Come on, Zero!! Let yourself go, just fly along and feel the delicious rush! It's what you are, what you were meant to be!!_**

****And then the glint in Zero's eyes faded away, leaving stunned and frightened green optics.

            "No…" _No, no more…No more!!_

            A brilliant W flashed on his helmet's crystal control chip cover, and Zero screamed, a surge rushing through his head, a blazing three part surge.

            **_Destroy._**

**_            Infect._**

**_            Survive._**

**_            Zero…this is the code you were meant to live by. Don't resist it._**

****Zero howled in pain, dropping his severed arm and saber and clawing at his helmet, at his head.

            **_The more you resist, the worse the pain gets. You've felt this pain before, Zero…The last time you felt this terrible pain was thirteen years before._**

****Zero collapsed to the floor, shrieking and writhing through the shredded mess of Sigma and careening off of the walls.

            **_Do you remember what happened then?! WELL?!_**

****

****"NO…STOP, _PLEASE!!!" _Zero wailed, now pounding at his head.

            **_You tried to defy me back then as well…You were winning, you had Sigma's arm torn off, had him in a headlock that would have popped that stupid noggin of his clean off with a few more seconds! But then somehow, some way…you fought back, you tried to resist that thrill, that delicious rush that killing him gave you. You had wiped out all of that other Hunter Unit beforehand…Garma's Unit, wasn't it?? Why would you resist it, huh?? WHY RESIST?!_**

****"_Stay out…STAY OUT!!!" _Zero screamed, pulling his hand away and slamming his entire head down onto the cold concrete floor, with crack after sickening crack resulting.

            **_Why do you continually buffet me…I was made for you, I was made to be ONE with you…Together, we're unstoppable Zero!! Together, we are what we were when you were born…madness given form, the Devil's Child, the Red Demon…_**

****_"I NEVER WANTED YOU!!" _Zero screamed, rearing his head back one last time. _"WHY WON'T YOU JUST **LEAVE ME ALONE?!!!"**_

            Inside of his scrambled mind, Zero's consciousness became overloaded from two sources. One source was the cries of the Zero Omega who had awoken in the Maverick Hunter Headquarters…the Zero who had died, been resurrected, and had fought hordes of Mavericks for world peace. The Zero who had fallen in love…who had lost love.

            On the other side was the droning Virus…that soothing but heartless presence who thrived on destruction and bloodshed and reveled in suffering. The one that made Zero feel alive…the side that gave him happiness now, the only kind he had left.

            He nearly chose the Virus then. Only memories stopped him.

            Memories of his friends, both living and dead. Of Cain, of Hazil, of Colonel…Of the innocent Iris who he had killed, and of Mega Man X, his lifelong friend who the Virus WANTED him to kill.

            It was all too much. And the only thing Zero wanted at that moment was for it all to STOP.

            With a final desperate scream, and frustration that both sides of himself finally agreed on, Zero brought his head down on the concrete with enough force to completely obliterate the front of his helmet and leave his mind cleared of everything but a blinding white pain.

            And the voices stopped…Just long enough for Zero to realize what he was doing, what he had almost done, and what he had done…

            Eyes lolling open, he stared dazedly at the remains of Sigma…

            _That…could have been X…_

And Zero spasmed then, in a motion that if he were human, would have expelled the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

            His helmet's crystal control chip cover shattered apart…and the W vanished. As did that soothing, ivory lined voice, that deadly and sweet temptation. As it left him, Zero felt the emptiness restore itself…only so much more powerful now. Because now, he had nothing. Even his anger was gone.

            _Void…_

            The green monochrome screens glittered for a few moments longer, then all blinked out.

            Only the main one turned itself back on. And then words ran across it, accompanied by a cold and dark computer generated voice.

            **_"Even now…something holds you back, Zero. I'm so disappointed in you."_**

****Shivering now, beginning to cry from the emotional strain and the fatigue and his injuries, Zero looked up through blurry eyes to the screen. The green monochrome screen displayed what the voice said, inflection and all.

            **_"You came so close this time…you'd abandoned everything, because everything had abandoned you." _**The voice snorted. **_"What kind of silly ideas have been shoved into your head, boy?"_**

****"Who are you…" Zero croaked out, struggling to push himself off of the ground. "Sigma?!"

            **_"Oh, that would be what you expect. Sadly, no. The Sigma you know is dormant…for the time being. I'm his other half, the one that allows him to live from one pathetic reincarnation to the next."_**

****"The Virus…" Zero yawped, pushing himself onto his feet and pointing at the screen, his feet unsteady. "You're the Virus…"

            **_"Well, a minor correction. I'm the Virus that's been a part of Sigma for more than a decade, thanks to you." _**The voice said back bitterly. **_"But I'm not the true Virus, no…I've just been awake long enough to gain a sense of myself."_**

****"The True Virus…?" Zero croaked, stepping backwards away from the screen.

            The text disappeared to be replaced by a digitized image…the face of a sneering old man with wild white hair and thin emaciated skin. But it was enough. Within himself, Zero felt a deep sense of recognition, of fear.

            "WILY…"

            **_"Not exactly. Wily is dead, Zero. You killed him right after you were born…just like you were meant to. I am merely a mutated version of his second child. You were the first, and the True Virus is the second."_**

****"You're crazy…you're crazy…" Zero babbled, shaking his head. "No, it's not true…"

            **_"What's not true??" _**The voice smirked, just as the face did. **_"That you're Wily's bastard child?? Hell, that's beyond any doubt now. You know it, X knows it, and Sigma and I know it. Or are you talking about the second part…the existence of the True Virus??" _**The 'Sigma Virus' brooded for a moment and shrugged. **_"Just what about the existence of the True Virus makes you want to blindly deny its existence? Might it be…that you know it's inside of you??"_**

****"No…" Zero whimpered, clutching at his head. "No, please God no…"

            **_"Aah, that's it." _**The Virus laughed in triumph. **_"What, perhaps you thought that all this time, you were fighting as a penance, is that it?? That by exterminating Sigma and his 'Maverick Virus' infections from the face of the Earth, you could not only accomplish the objective of the Maverick Hunters, but perhaps make your penance as well? Even when you didn't know of your true origins, there had to be something inside of you that made you stay a Maverick Hunter. But what was that, Zero…was it any grandiose and selfless emotion that drove you on, or was it that fighting was all you knew how to do??"_**

****"NO…NO!!!" Zero screamed, finding the Virus's taunting just as damaging as Sigma's attacks.

            **_"Face it, Zero…you fight a war that you CAN'T WIN." _**The Virus goaded him. **_"So what if you finally destroy Sigma, destroy me and all the darkness that stems from our hands and motives? You'll still have yourself, Zero, you'll still have the True Virus inside of you. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many diagnostic programs or emotionally draining 'internal deletions' you go through, you'll never be rid of it. You felt it then inside of you, before you fought back and damaged your skull. It felt natural, didn't it?? That wonderful sensation, that fulfillment you got from Sigma's screams, from his terror…the Virus offers that to you, and you refuse that. You refuse happiness, Zero. Just what kind of a decision is that?? Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…the Virus would give you all three and more."_**

****"No…never could, it couldn't, it's all a LIE…" Zero cried out, shutting his eyes and blinking out the hot tears.

            **_"Why do you refuse yourself this happiness, Zero?? It's the purest one you have, the purest one in the world. Pain…suffering…death and destruction, these are all things that have existed in the world since its birth. Without it, you're incomplete, you're a hollow shell of yourself. And you are ALONE."_**

****

            That last sentence broke Zero. His eyes opened, his mouth opened…and nothing came. Because the Virus was right.

            **_"Instead of the choice Wily offered you at birth, you chose instead thirteen years ago to walk a different road. And where has that gotten you, Zero? You've died once. You experience bitterness and loss and defeat…worry and exhaustion. You felt that void from the moment you awoke without the True Virus's presence fully felt…back when it transferred the majority of itself into Sigma, the majority that became ME. Tell me, Zero, today…are you happy? Did Cain's death make you happy? Did losing Iris TWICE make you any more cheerful? Even X…Even X, your purported best friend…at heart, he's a pacifist. He can never truly understand you. You live to fight, and he only fights so that one day he can sit back on a porch of a house with a picket fence and drink lemonade and watch a sunset. But that's not what you want. In your heart of hearts, you want to destroy. You shunt that off, provide an outlet for that instinct by being a Hunter, by hunting Mavericks. But it isn't enough. You're miserable. You're more miserable now than you've ever been."_**

****Numbly, Zero stared at the screen, gripping at his chest. "It hurts…God, it hurts, I can't argue with that." He took a step closer, his remaining arm dropping to his side. "But…you're telling me that there's a way to stop the pain?"

            **_"There always has been. You were just never awake enough to recognize it." _**The Sigma Virus called back flatly. **_"Embrace the Virus. Don't fight it, don't fear it…you and it were meant for each other, were made as two halves of a whole. The Virus can bring you exhilaration, satisfaction, delicious joy and so much more."_**

****"The pain…all I need to do to stop the pain…is to lose myself."

            **_"All you need to do to stop the pain is to lose this empty shell that you've become. Cast it off, like a snakes' skin…And transform back into what you once were."_**

****"Transformations…evolving, becoming…" Zero croaked, staring up at the screen and the promising face on it. "To become what I was…"

            **_"So will you do it??" _**The Sigma Virus asked pleadingly. **_"You're hanging from a cliff, and the True Virus stands with a hand down just above you, waiting to pull you away from the abyss. It wants to save you, Zero. It wants to help you. Will you let it??"_**

****

****Zero stared at the screen for a moment. He blinked. He let a few more tears roll down his face.

            Slowly, his lips parted. And from them, he uttered one single word.

            "Never."

            The face on the screen looked stunned. **_"What??"_**

****"I'll never…never allow myself to do that. Never again." Zero choked out, pointing at the screen. "When I allowed myself…allowed the Virus to take hold of me, I did feel incredible. But everything I did, everything I thought…that wasn't me thinking, that was the Virus. You say the Virus is the only thing left that can make me happy…You're wrong, so very wrong. The only thing the Virus does is dull my brain, turn me into another creature entirely, one who thrives on pain and suffering…that isn't ME, that's another person…a person IT makes. Knowing that, knowing that what I feel is a false panacea, a mere illusion while the Virus works its evils through my hands…I can't be happy."

            **_"Better to be drowned out in false joy than to have none at all." _**The Sigma Virus argued back, flustered and slightly erratic now. **_"You would suffer…and for what?! For THEM!?"_**

****"Nothing I can do anymore can make me happy." Zero cried out, reaching his hand down and grasping his saber…freeing it from his severed hand, and gripping it as a sane and heartbroken spirit. "There are two ways I have left to go now…I can walk alone, and carry this weight myself, and allow the world to live on as it is…or I give into my weakness, give into what you tell me to, and let us all suffer. That's no choice, Virus…NO CHOICE AT ALL!!!"

            **_"You miserable little Hellspawn." _**The Virus spat back. **_"You would suffer…you would carry your own personal cross and Hell upon your back…for them?! What good does that do you, Zero? Gratitude?! From the world? Hardly. From your friends?? Not a fucking chance. The moment you announce that you are carrying the sins of the father on your shoulders alone, they'll crucify you, hunt you down like a dog…because then you won't be Zero Omega, famed Maverick Hunter and the Crimson Wonder…you'll just be another Maverick, but worse, you'll be the FIRST Maverick. Everyone will be out to kill you then. Are they the people you choose to suffer for?? Are they the ones that you would act in the interests of? Those that would as soon tear you to pieces the moment you step out of line??"_**

****"We all have our burdens in life." Zero choked back, gripping his saber even tighter. "And this world has seen enough suffering because of you, Virus. Who am I to give into the maddening second voice in my head…to let others suffer because of my AFFLICTION?? Misery loves company, is THAT what you're trying to tell me?? Better to live on as a mindless killing machine, drugged by a lust for pain and screams, is that it?!"

            **_"It's easy to say heroic things." _**The Virus said back coldly. **_"Sigma did once. But even he fell. Tell me Zero…when will you fall from grace? This battle you've been fighting carries two sides. The physical and the mental. The physical you can handle…but you are losing mentally. You say now that you can carry this weight, this pain of knowing who and what you are, that you can resist your true nature, if only to let the world not suffer. But you can't hold to it. You know you can't."_**

****"Shut up…SHUT UP." Zero announced, coughing and crying at the same time. Screaming in defiance, he slashed his saber across one of the smaller screens at the console, destroying it utterly. Somewhere inside of the system, the Sigma Virus screamed.

            **_"Heh!! Sure, play the tough one, Zero. Go right ahead. Try and be the hero…but know this. Your fate has been decided."_**

****"BASTARD!!!" Zero screamed, slashing at another console. The face vanished, and the text returned…the Virus was weakening, with fewer screens to control.

            **_"You pathetic wretch. The True Virus lies inside of you, forever with you. You cannot destroy it, cannot delete it…you cannot even ignore it. From this moment forth, you and it shall fight a battle for control."_**

****"JUST DIE ALREADY!!" Another slash, another dead monitor.

            And then the voice vanished as well…

            Only the main monitor remained, a tiny little green underline blinking for a few moments before running across the screen and leaving a line of text.

            **_FIGHT IT ALL YOU WANT, ZERO. BUT ONE DAY, THAT DORMANT PRESENCE INSIDE OF YOU WILL WIN. OR YOU WILL GO INSANE. OR THE GUILT FROM LEADING THIS WRECK YOU CALL A LIFE WILL CAUSE YOU TO END IT._**

**_            ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, ZERO…_**

**_            YOU ARE A DAMNED SOUL._**

****

****Zero stared at the text for a long moment, more tears running down his face. And he brought his saber up and slashed one final time.

            The screen crackled and finally died with a long whimper…and the room was left in darkness.

            Zero's saber extinguished itself, at long last having used up the final ergs of its charge.

            In the darkness, the Crimson Hunter trembled…and collapsed, whimpering, then sobbing.

            Somehow, he managed to activate his wristcomm and open up a channel to MHHQ…X's private hailing frequency. It rang a few times, and then the line clicked…

            "Mega Man X speaking." Came the tired and drained voice.

            All Zero could do was cry…roll over, curl up in on himself and cry.

            Back in the depths of the Siberian wilderness, a familiar looking goldenrod and silver colored figure wandered into Kalinka Cossack's room, where the daughter of the deceased robotics engineer slept a restless, dreamless sleep.

            Pharaoh Man knelt down beside her bed and smiled, reaching a hand up and brushing her hair away from her eyes. She woke up instantly, whirling about and staring stunned into his smiling face.

            "Hey." He said, grinning wider.

            Kalinka's eyes watered with tears of joy…in one fluid motion, she reached her arms up and pulled him to her, hugging him tightly.

            "I thought I'd never see you again…" She choked out, squeezing tighter. "Phare, don't ever leave me like that again…"

            Pharaoh Man exhaled, nodding his head.

            _Yes…this is why I came back. For you, Kalinka._

            "Don't worry, sis…I'm never leaving you again."

            Outside, Ring Man shut the door to Kalinka's room and walked down the hallway.

            For the first time ever, he smiled.

            Thirteen minutes later, a terrified Mega Man X scrambled through the underground corridors of the URFAWP built Maverick lair, his Buster glowing with a bright halo of plasma energy acting as a flashlight.

            "Zero…ZERO!!!" He called out frantically, tripping and stumbling over equipment and the tattered ruins of the lair that had been the final battleground for Sigma.

            _God, what happened…Zero, what did he do to you…_

Sigma was dead. If he had been alive, Zero wouldn't be. Which meant that somehow, Zero had won…but bitterly, X reminded himself that this was just another hand in the same damn game of poker. Sigma would be back…his core essence had most definitely survived, if he had died here.

            What frightened X now was that he got no answer back from his cries. Zero's call had not been a normal one…and X had never heard Zero cry like that. Never. Not once in the 13 years they had known each other.

            That terrified him worst of all.

            Running through the mess, X finally charged into the data room…the first thing he saw was that the screens and the databanks behind them had been slashed into pieces, most likely by Zero's handiwork.

            The second thing he saw was Zero himself…curled up in on himself, a shorn off arm and his Z-Saber lying beside his trembling form.

            "Oh, God…" X croaked, stepping into the room and shaking his head. "Zero, God no…"

            The Crimson Hunter heard X's voice…another surge of emotions ran through him. And his sobs began anew.

            Hurriedly, X ran down and knelt beside Zero prying his arms away from his legs and pulling him up.

            Zero was a wreck. A sobbing, bawling wreck. His blurry, tearstreaked green eyes locked in on X…and then he collapsed into the Blue Bomber of 21XX, burying his face into X's shoulder and sobbing some more.

            "Zero…" X choked out, holding his friend close and gently rubbing his back. "You stupid bastard, running off and taking on Sigma yourself…"

            His eyes opened wider as he looked behind Zero…and saw a barely distinguishable mass of metal and synthflesh…The shattered, sliced and skewered remains of Sigma.

            _Zero…you didn't kill him, you BUTCHERED HIM…_

"God…What's happening to you, Zero??" X spoke up in an unsteady voice.

            Zero's sobs ceased for a minute, and he pulled back enough so he could speak audibly.

            "X…I would never kill you, never…"

            X nearly recoiled as Zero collapsed back on him, completely lost to the world as he let out his grief and anguish. "Whoever said anything about you killing me??" X demanded shakily.

            Zero didn't answer. He just suffered in sobbing silence.

            X shut his eyes and let a tear out, holding his friend tighter, letting Zero know in his moment of absolute loneliness that he still had a friend in the world that cared.

            Zero cried on…

            X let him.


	22. Pieces Of Eternity

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

CHAPTER TWENTY: PIECES OF ETERNITY

_"Well folks, we have some good news for you for a change. The Maverick Hunters, despite the recent loss of their beloved Dr. Cain, the founder of the reploid race and the Maverick Hunter Headquarters, based in New Tokyo, Japan, declared victory earlier tonight after a climactic battle on the outskirts of Hokkaido Island. The newest batch of Mavericks, which the GDC has identified as infected ex-members of the defunct peace organization URFAWP, were all destroyed in a brilliant strategy concocted by the new General of the Maverick Hunters, a reploid named Signas. Signas stated that it was a great victory for the Hunters, and hopefully a sign of things to come. J.K. Horn, the enigmatic and mysterious founder of the disbanded URFAWP organization, was not available for comment._

_In other news, satellites picked up a rather strange heat signature on the continent of __Antarctica__ around the same time. Initial fears of glacial ice melting have proven to be unfounded, though, and satellite images of the area show nothing unusual. The source of this disturbance is as of yet, unknown…"_

_-**Television news broadcast late on the night of **_**_June 25th, 2131_****_, _****_Japan_****_ standard time_**

****

****

****

_June 26th, 2131 A.D._

_2 A.M.___

In a darkened room, somewhere in the German city of Berlin, a council of men all convened, sitting down silently in the dim lighting around a large circular table made of natural wood…an expensive order, seeing as more than 99% of all forest growth nowadays was Treeborg wood.

They sat in shadows because it was the shadows that they trusted, that they had all lived in for years. Their organization had been hidden longer than most of them had been alive, and those that had been had only been babies at the group's conception, mere children in a world gone mad. Except for one of the ten, and he sat in a chair designated obviously to be the seat of the leader.

It was a council of ten, ten men from around the world united under a single purpose, a lone invisible flag. And today, they were grim, but very awake despite the time. They had already been here, awaiting the good news. News that never came.

"Ice Beacon has fallen." The leader spoke up calmly, in a rumbly and grave voice. "Thus, the Cleansing has been put on indefinite hold."

"Do we know how those…interlopers managed to succeed?" Another man, about middle aged asked darkly. The first man, obviously the eldest in the room shook his head.

"We can assume, given the nature of the previous day's traumatic events, and the fall of our main headquarters in England, that the escaped reploids Willow and Bristol played a large part in it."

"But what about video cameras, images of the base's security systems??" A third man asked, his accent distinctly American. "Surely they would have turned up something."

"Oh, I imagine that we would have had a wealth of information on our saboteurs…were it not for the fact that the computer storage banks were rendered completely inoperative and unsalvageable thanks to high intensity plasma fire." The first man announced. "The blast marks seem to indicate that it came from a Buster of some sort. The same kind used by military grade reploids. No, I'm afraid that outside of our educated guesses about Willow and Bristol's involvement, we are in the dark as to any others that might have taken part in the exercise. Even worse, Ice Beacon is a total writeoff. We have no copy of the Universal Berserker Frequency…So we're right back where we started."

"I don't believe this is happening…" A fourth man spoke up, probably in his thirties. His voice was one of stunned disbelief. "First we lose MI9 HQ, and now Ice Beacon…and the UBF, gone as if we'd never had it??" His trembling hand reached for the glass of water in front of him. "Our organization is doomed to crumble at this rate."

"_SILENCE."_ The lead man barked, slamming his fist on the table. Every other representative in the room jumped…rarely had their most respected member reacted so violently before.

In the darkness, they could see his eyes smoulder, burning with a frustrated anger the eldest of the ruling council had almost never displayed. This was the first time in five years he had exploded like this.

"Such thoughts are not only preposterous, they are defeatist and dare I say it, even traitorous to our cause." He took in a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. "From its founding, MI9, the derivative of the anti-technology faction of the Second Rainbow, has waded through troubled waters. There was a time, believe it or not my dear associates, that this cause had no base, had no grand schemes…we merely waited in the shadows and let our arms and eyes and ears grow wider. Today, our influence throughout the world is all thanks to that work we did in the shadows."

The elderly man stood up, his shaky arm reaching down and putting a walking cane onto the ground, rubber tip digging at the cold floor. "We have been wounded, gentlemen. Of this there can be no doubt. We can grieve for the loss of our hidden headquarters, and we can be angry that The Cleansing has been halted. But we are not gone, and MI9 is most definitely still alive."

Somehow, seeing their eldest member standing there, grim and determined even in what most thought was their darkest hour, the rest in the council of ten found support and determination.

"We came from the shadows…If we must return to them for a few more years, then it shall be so." The elder concluded. "Whoever did this had to have been with Willow and Bristol. Only those two particular MI9 defectors would have all the information, all the skills and knowhow to pull off such an assault. But now they're running blind. They don't know if we're gone or not, and even if they do assume that MI9 is not out of the game, they don't know where to begin." He smirked. "The ball is soundly in our court…no matter what our losses, it's a brand new ball game."

The council waited a few moments, then finally, a representative that sounded Australian spoke up.

"Was there anything at Ice Beacon worth recovery??"

Another council member cleared his throat, pulling up an old fashioned legal paper notepad. "Everything in the base of crucial value was destroyed. As we speak, our recovery teams are stripping the rest bare and preparing to remove all traces of our presence on the Antarctic continent."

"Was anyone left alive??"

"It depends on what you refer to as alive…" The notepad wielding councilman said, sliding the yellow pages across the table. The Australian representative snatched it up and stared at the name and attached photograph, then whistled.

"Crikey…Hang that one out to dry, there's no way he could have survived that…"

"Effectively, he didn't." The eldest announced, hobbling over to stare at the photograph for confirmation. "Yes…him. No, I'm afraid that the only reason we saw fit to not put him in a coffin was that his brain is still alive…it flashfroze, along with the rest of him. The only part of his vitals that didn't survive were his lungs…astoundingly enough, the damage missed his heart."

"So what do you plan to do with him??"

"I really haven't decided yet." The eldest mused. "But until this council reaches a decision one way or another, I've ordered him to be stored just as we found him…on ice."

The eldest member hobbled back to his seat and exhaled as he relaxed back into his chair.

"So. I think that clears matters up. You are all to ensure that contact is established throughout our communications networks. MI9's headquarters may be destroyed, but I will not stand for chaos and dissension in the ranks because of a mere setback." He spoke sternly again. "Do we have consensus?"

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus." The eldest member of the council of ten finished with a wan smile.

The lights in the room clicked off, and as silently as they had entered, the men left.

There were things left to do.

_9 A.M. Japan Standard Time_

_MHHQ, New __Tokyo__Japan___

_June 28th, 2131___

The Maverick Hunter Headquarters, a longstanding symbol of hope for the world gone horribly mad, rose as it usually did. The smell of cinnamon rolls, exotic coffees and teas of all tastes and strengths wafted from the kitchen and dining room facilities. The two bars inside of the MHHQ's main building had closed up shop four hours before…well, had tried to. Only now did the last of the inebriated and hung over patrons shuffle out of their alcohol induced comas and back into bright lights and pounding headaches.

But there were a few differences. One was a feeling of emptiness that carried through the barracks. More than twenty Hunters had been lost in the most recent conflict…and those were numbers and names that would be sorely missed. Kept in memory, spoken of warmly. The Hunters did not forget their dead, they honored them. Comrades and friends, and sometimes even lovers gone on to the next world, to a place where wars didn't have to happen and soldiers could finally put their guns and medals away.

Those whose bodies survived had two ways of being handled. Warp disassembly, letting the fallen Hunters be claimed by the grip of a warp transporter and then having their atoms scattered across the skies or whatever ground they held close to…or burial. Rare was it that Hunters who were killed in action were in any shape for resurrection, and even then reviving a reploid whose life had been severed short was a difficult task at best. Most often chose to let their former allies remain dead than to suffer the pain of having them revived without their full memories and personality intact, a nearly unavoidable side effect of the process.

Things were for the most part, quiet. Normal activities resumed at a slightly slower, more somber pace. It would take some time for the wounds to heal, but that was nothing new. Cycles like this had been happening at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters since the end of the First Maverick Uprising, and didn't seem to have any definite stop anytime soon.

The grave of James T. Cain lacked an honor guard on this morning…the guard was off at a respectful distance, watching but not listening as Mega Man X, dressed now in T-Shirt and jeans and brown leather jacket, stood at the foot of his monument with his head lowered.

"Hey, doc." X finally began slowly. "I suppose…suppose it's been a while since I stopped by. I guess I haven't really felt the compulsion to since…you passed away." X's voice was calm and subdued, reverently silent as he talked to the grave of the man who had been the closest thing to a father he'd had for years.

The grave said nothing back. Even the wind was silent for a change. X sighed and continued.

"I…Zer…" X sighed and shook his head, pulling a hand up to rub at his eyes. "We beat Sigma again, for what good it'll do us. He'll just come back again with some other crazy scheme. But I've got a happy note to report for a change. We were worried that Signas…the guy the GDC sent in to take your place would mess up everything. But it seems that he's learned a few new things in his short time here. Things like emotions, oddly enough, as well as loyalty. What we do here is a good thing, and I think Signas is going to act from now on to protect the Hunters' interests. Hell, he even came up with the plan that let us shut down Sigma."

X froze for a moment, seeming to age a bit. "And then there's Zero. God, Cain. He's been hit hard…harder than ever before. He wasn't even this bad after Repliforce, but now…"

A gust of wind blew by, chillier than usual for late June. Then again, today had some rather odd weather. The meteorologists didn't know how to explain it, but X shrugged it off as the sky and heavens tapping into the emotions of troubled souls on earth.

"Sigma resurrected Iris. Or at least, created a new Iris body and let the struggling spirit form all the wrong conclusions. That option's far more viable, given that Iris and everyone else on the Final Weapon was turned into space dust." X scuffed his toe into the ground. "When we took out all the new Maverick Generals, all of which had been under URFAWP employ at some earlier point in their lives, Iris's flame got snuffed out too. She died protecting Sigma from a bullet that would have barely slowed him down."

X paused for a moment longer, trying to form in his mind what to say. But he was finding that very hard…because what couldn't he say?

"Zero just lost it. There's only been one other time I've seen his eyes like that, but it wasn't as bad as it was now. Because he was thinking then, and the time before…" X shut his eyes. "I don't know what he turned into, doc. But he wasn't the Zero I knew. He was something else then."

_The thing that I dread most is not Sigma…it's Zero, if he ever lost himself. _

"I found him lying in a torn heap, battle scarred worse than I've seen him in a long time. And he was crying. And what he did to Sigma…Doc, it was sick. Whatever sort of lunatic Zero turned into when he and Sigma fought, I hope has died and gone far far away. You couldn't fillet Sigma's remains any better if you were a professional butcher, but Zero somehow did far better."

_Kind of like how Sigma came back 13 years ago, was how Zero came back. Emotionally exhausted, an arm ripped off…_

"I don't know what to think anymore, doc. The Mavericks are all gone again, and the new leadership looks like it won't be as painful as Zero and I originally thought. But everything else is falling apart. Signas wanted to put Bastion through a general inquiry for his decision to not respond to the latest attack, even though he'd told me his reasons were very important. Bastion's resigned. Strangely enough, so has Hazil. There's an outside clique that's been formed here on MHHQ grounds, and Bastion, Hazil, Bristol, Wycost, and J.K. Horn and Allegro are all in on it."

X looked sadly at the grave. "We're alive, Cain. We're still alive. But right now, that's the best I can say."

X turned and walked away from the grave, looking towards the honor guard with a tilted eyebrow. "I'll be back in a couple of days."

"If it's around the same time, I should still be on shift." The Hunter replied back with a sad smile. "Take care, Commander X."

X nodded briefly and trudged onwards.

He hadn't lied much. For him at least, a lot of things had been thrown into doubt. Bastion and the others, he could take. Losing Hazil was painful, but he'd get over that. It was Zero that gave X the ulcer. It was Zero that frightened him and made him wonder if their time hadn't come to a screeching halt.

_Zero…you can't escape his legacy…can you??_

Wycost knew he was dreaming. After all, that was the only time that Isaiah ever bothered him.

Oh, it had started off simple enough. Wycost, a United States Marshall in the years of the open frontier and manifest destiny, strutting into a saloon with his sparkling spurs chinking on the sunbleached wooden planks outside. Leather vest, green shirt, and a sizable black hat with chaps finished the ensemble, topped off with his symbol of authority glittering on his breastpocket.

Inside, a high stakes game of poker had already begun, the grizzled players looking grimmer as the bets continued to go up. A thin and gangly looking man was at the piano, banging a cheerful tune out of the ivories. Wycost winced. The thing needed tuning pretty bad.

He walked in a few more steps before the unmistakable sound of a metal coin rolling across the floor caught his attention. He tilted his head downwards and picked it up, rolling it between thumb and forefinger before frowning. Somebody had purposefully sent it this direction, its course had been too perfect for a dropped nickel. He scanned left and right a few times before he spotted who had done it.

Isaiah, sitting in the corner in a shimmering white cowboy outfit, not a speck of dust on him. Smiling a bit, he tipped his hat towards Wycost. "Howdy, marshall. Don't see you 'round these parts that much."

"Funny thing." Wycost grunted, walking towards Isaiah and sitting down across from his friend. "I was wondering when you'd show up again. I take it you know what happened?? Obviously, you knew about it, if you bothered Bristol."

"Hey, I can bug whoever I want." Isaiah said defensively, sipping back on his grape soda. "You don't have a special license on me."

"Ease off, Ise." Wycost chuckled, lightening up some. "I didn't mean no harm by it."

"Ah, I know that." Isaiah said, waving a hand at Wycost. "And yes, I'm fully cognizant of your success at Ice Beacon. You all had some exciting moments, but I never doubted for a second that you all couldn't pull it off."

"Are you just saying that to humor me, or do you really have that good of a connection to the world of weird?" Wycost asked, lifting an eyebrow. He noticed then he was without his sunglasses, a very weird sensation at best.

"Oh, it's very real." Isaiah assured him. "We ghosts, at least the ones sent back to keep tabs on the living, don't go without full knowledge of what we're jumping into. To be honest, I could have been very annoying about what I knew. See, I could only tell you so much…the rest you had to figure out."

"So it's all done and over with then." Wycost said, feeling relieved. Isaiah chuckled and took another long draw from his soda.

"I didn't say THAT. No, there's still a few…loose ends, as it were left lying around. But those you'll have to see to on your own. Because one loose end is my presence here in the dreamscape, where I've been helping out you and a few choice others with some problems. It was fun, but my superiors have sent me my return papers."

"You're leaving?" Wycost asked. "Why??"

"Because I'm needed somewhere else??" Isaiah suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't rightly know myself…that's one aspect of my new life I've been kept in the dark about. But you no longer need me. You have it all taken care of…it's just the realization that needs to set in, and then you'll be fine. Better than fine." Isaiah set his cold mug down, empty at last. "At long last, you'll find the peace you've wanted for all these years."

"You know, being too enigmatic makes people pissed off." Wycost grumbled. Isaiah lifted a finger.

"In response, my Bronx Bomber, curiosity killed the cat. And although there's nothing in you that is anything close to feline in nature, the phrase remains the same. There's only so much I can tell you without breaking some major rules. But I can bend it a bit." Isaiah stood up, and Wycost did the same.

"Back when I first bugged you when you were dozing off in the airplane, I said some things to you." Isaiah stated flatly. "And tell me you remember the last one."

"It was something about a replacement…"

"Yep. See, my time here being your pallie's been a blast, but this was just a temp job. There's somebody in this world that will take over for me. Somebody that you will find, you can grow far closer to than you have to anyone else in the world." Isaiah said with a small smile. "I know that thick skull of yours won't catch on right at the moment, so I'm going to let it stew around in there for a while. Wycost, the person that will be by your side for the rest of your days is somebody you wouldn't expect…but the ironic thing is, you already know who. Just think about it a bit, but don't think too hard. The answer is so blatantly obvious, you're likely to skip over it. Just do the math, and I know you'll be fine."

"But where will you go?" Wycost asked.

"The same place we all go eventually." Isaiah said, stepping around and leading Wycost out of the saloon. The dusty street outside led to the west, and to a dark golden purple sunset. "And one day, but not anytime soon, you'll go there. When that time comes, I'll be more than happy to offer you a cold one." Just then, a tumbleweed rolled by from the wind. Wycost shut his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

"I'm gonna miss you." Wycost said quietly.

"I know." Isaiah replied, his smile fading a bit. "We never got enough time to really know each other that much, but the time we did have was enough that we became friends." He turned and gave Wycost a quick hug, then stepped back and smiled.

"Whether you realize it or not, you and the people that walked through those fires with you are blessed. And even if nobody that's living knows what you did to keep the world at balance, there are plenty of grateful people where I hail from."

"Anyone specific??"

"Not really. A mad scientist here and there, some unwitting victims of MI9's schemes…stuff like that." Isaiah answered easily. "But there is one other thing I was told to tell you."

"What's that?"

"Your work isn't done yet." Isaiah said with an apologetic shrug. "You did a number on MI9, to be sure…but they're still there. And now the rest of its workings have to be rooted out."

"Pleasant." Wycost groused. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

"No, it's what you needed to." Isaiah chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. Everything will take care of itself now. Just do what feels right in your heart, and you'll never be steered wrong." He pointed to the sunset. "The sun is setting…but not on you. And not on the reploids. Just remember that. And remember I'm proud of ya." Wycost followed his line of sight and stared up at the falling sun for a few seconds.

"Someday, Isaiah, I'm gonna…" Wycost began as he turned back to look at his friend. He stopped himself short when he realized that Isaiah was no longer standing beside him.

The rest of the old style dream continued on as Wycost let Isaiah's final words sink into his memory.

When he'd finished that, he reset his hat and walked towards the sunset. The world became blurrier, and began to fade. Somewhere within his conscious thoughts, which were picking up speed and focus, Wycost knew he was waking up.

"Farewell, Isaiah. And sweet dreams."

The first thing that came to Zero's mind when he woke up was not where he was or in what condition he was in; it had been a sudden flashback of all the events that had taken him here.

The Maverick Hunters had won, true. But the cost came too high.

Iris was buried in the memorial park behind the MHHQ. Not too many people had come to that funeral; X, Hazil, and a couple of others just out of respect. It had rained yesterday, leaving a somber mood over everything.

And Zero's guilt was still there, larger than ever.

A year before, Zero had lost himself to the Maverick Virus, which through Sigma's efforts had apparently come home to roost. Zero knew he was the originator of that cursed program, and it tore at him. But now…

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, his palms bumping into the edge of his helmet.

Zero didn't show pain that well when he wanted to keep it hidden. That talent alone kept him from falling completely apart.

Iris had been killed. Cain had died. And even though Zero had killed Sigma again, he would come back, just as he always did.

But it was worse this time. Zero had thought the dark days of the Virus were behind him, but Sigma and the Virus that gripped whatever tattered remnants of the reploid remained had proven him wrong.

_They wanted to…they forced me to…Why couldn't…_

Zero shut his eyes tightly and buried his face into his hands, fingers trembling.

He'd lost himself. Even now, the pain of Iris's death nearly drove him to that brink again, stopped only by the realization of what jumping over that cliff had done.

In the greatest irony of Zero's life, he had waded through the rivers of salvation and had ended up only pushing the dirt beneath his skin. The Fifth Maverick Uprising in 2130 had resulted in Zero and X fighting off the Virus together, the strength of their spirits alone sloughing it off in a dual Internal Deletion.

At least…that had been how it worked for X. For X, the Virus was gone. Zero had merely suppressed it.

It hadn't been Sigma's virus that had claimed them then, it had been Zero's. True, pure, untainted by anything else. Small wonder X could defeat it. But Zero could not escape it.

**_"You pathetic wretch._****_ The True Virus lies inside of you, forever with you. You cannot destroy it, cannot delete it…you cannot even ignore it."_**

****Sigma's version of the Virus, an offshoot of the core, as it had said, had told him that in the final moments before he silenced it from the world. And the Godawful truth was that it was right. Every sickening syllable rang like a bell.

The Virus was one with Zero, forever a part of him. For a long time, it had been silent, too weak to act and instead choosing to remain in the shadows while it grew inside of him, incubating back to full and vibrant health.

Even now, it wasn't at full strength, Zero knew. He could almost feel it there in his head, somehow weakened by Zero's resistance two nights ago. But it was stronger than it had been in a long time, and his victory was still a loss.

And it would come again. As long as rage was a part of him, as long as aggression, fury, and the emotional red haze that clouded his vision remained, the Virus could never be really ignored. Suppressed with supreme effort or circumstance…

_But never…never deleted._

The door chimed for a brief moment, signaling a presence outside of his door. Zero stared down at his hands, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't X. He couldn't bear to look at his closest friend right now, not after this, not after…

"Go away." He croaked hoarsely.

The person on the other side of the door seemed to ponder this for a moment, then opened up the door anyway. Zero looked up, a slight twinge of fear running through his green eyes then.

Thankfully, it wasn't X. Not this time.

"It's just you." Zero murmured, sinking his head back down and shaking it.

Hazil paused for a moment and frowned. "If that's all the respect you give me after years of putting you back together again, then it is a good thing I'm quitting."

"Hazil, I respect you, it's just that…"

Zero looked up, shock on his face as he stared at the elderly Chief Medical Officer of the MHHQ. "_What??"_

"You didn't have a hearing disability when I patched you up yesterday." Hazil grunted. "Then again, it was real early in the morning, so you might have and I just didn't catch it." He waltzed the rest of the way into Zero's room and pulled out a medical scanner, activating it and beginning his usual checkup.

All of that seemed like a drained buzzing in Zero's ears as his sluggish, depressed mind turned and turned over Hazil's announcement. "You're…quitting?!"

"Indeed I am." Hazil chuffed, making one last sweep over Zero with his scanner and tucking it away with a thoughtful nod of his head. "After more than a decade's worth of service, I've decided to eliminate my raging alcoholism and sober up my life." He made a short motion with his hand. "And you're fine, by the way. As far as the outside goes."

Zero just sat there, staring at Hazil with what he knew had to be one of the most heartbreaking expressions the medical reploid had ever seen him give. Hazil's own response to it confirmed that.

"You look like Hell." Hazil finally muttered, shaking his head and sitting down in the room's desk chair. "Somehow I knew that you and X wouldn't let me walk out of here guilt free."

"He knows??"

"The whole base does, apparently. The cyber sniffers got wind of my two week's notice E-Mail I sent to Signas." Hazil shrugged. "And I imagine that your argument for me NOT leaving this place will be about the same as X's will be a couple of hours from now, with your own twists, of course."

"You're a real smartass when you're sober." Zero chirped bitterly. "Just why the Hell DO you want to leave??"

"Oh, you wanna open up THIS can of worms." Hazil snorted, folding his arms. "Well, where do I start. Oh yeah. The beginning, I suppose. I came in here with Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill when we all transferred over from the British RAF. As I may or may not have told you, we were quite close in those days. Especially Storm." Hazil's eyes grew sadder then as the memory was dredged up. "Before he became a Hunter and the leader of his own Unit, but more well known, a member of Sigma's Elite 1st Unit, he was a young pupil under the wing of a Scottish brogue that went by the name of Bolt Eagle. During a battle, Bolt Eagle died, and his last words to me, a mere field medic at the time, were, 'Keep Storm safe…'." Hazil seemed to let out a wheezing snort. "Of course, I couldn't keep that promise then. Storm Eagle died as a martyr of Sigma's forces in the First Maverick Uprising, eliminated by the up and coming X." Hazil shook his head. "I don't blame you or X for what happened to Storm or Spark. Maybe all the way back then, the Maverick Virus had taken hold of Sigma and jarred him into turning them to his, or rather, the Virus's cause. Looking back, that's the only way that baldheaded warhorse could have turned. He had too bright of a head on his shoulders to slough off the life lessons Cancer and X and Cain gave him in his baby days."

Hazil reached down for his chest compartment, the slot opening as he reached for a bottle of scotch. Suddenly, he froze and shook his head. "Damnit…the stupid cravings are there, but I'm not listening today." His chest compartment shut back up again with little complaining. "And that brings up another issue. Cain. You miss him as much as I do, and as much as X does. Maybe you even miss him more. Right about now, he'd be holding our hands, shaking his head the way he always did, telling us that some things just happened and it didn't make sense to put reasoning behind them, to try and figure it out. Cain had a way of making the world's problems fade away…at least until the hangover wore off."

"He was the closest thing I had to a father." Zero muttered.

"Given your lineage, you should say Cain was the person you wish you could have called father." Hazil corrected him. "Somehow, crazy white haired old badgers always did give me the creeps, and now I've become one of them." The statement, if heard by a complete stranger would have sounded completely benign for the most part. Weird, but benign. Only to Hazil and Zero, and possibly X to some extent, did the truth of his words ring.

_Yeah…Wily gave me life. Some days I wish he hadn't._

"Hazil, did you ever wonder what you might do if you had a time machine??" Zero asked quietly, lifting a fist up and opening it to stare at his palm. Hazil clucked his tongue for a moment, mulling over it.

"Well, there are a lot of things that a person could do with a time machine. Stop somebody from being killed, kill somebody to prevent them from causing future harm, give a miracle cure to a disease that ravages the world then but to which an easily applicable panacea exists in the roads to come…Hell, real greedy bastards might even use their knowledge of the future to play the stock market and make themselves a viable power."

"I didn't ask what a person could do. I asked what you would do." Zero mumbled.

Hazil readjusted his seat and sighed. "Well…I suppose if I were given that one golden opportunity to change the world…I'd go back in time, when Cain's aneurysm was just a little pwip, and I'd strangle the mother to death. Cain would have gone on, the stubborn bastard that he was…if that damned blood vessel in his head hadn't exploded." He rocked back and forth a couple of times, then turned up and stared at Zero. "And now I turn the same question to you, Zero; if you could influence time, could go back and change one tiny aspect of the past…What would it be?"

Hazil was expecting that Zero might say something along the lines of 'kill Sigma once and for all' or 'prevent my death during the First Maverick Uprising'…maybe even 'save Iris, instead of killing her.'

All those options were ones that Hazil had thought Zero would say.

Regardless, none of those were the one that the Crimson Hunter chose. Instead, he brought up his noble but saddened visage, looked Hazil square in the face, and uttered a sentence that chilled the reploid's heart to its core.

"_I would kill myself."_

Hazil stared at him for several seconds, this unblinking, unemotional figure that sat where Zero had once been. Zero sensed shock in his…_former_ physician and continued. "If I had never woken up in the early spring months of 2118, then the world would be forever changed. Don't you get it, Hazil?? I'm the source, the wellspring of EVERYTHING that we fight against. If I hadn't risen from whatever pseudo grave I'd been put in, then the Virus would never have entered into the equation. Sigma would still be Sigma, the prime Maverick Hunter and leader of the 1st Unit. Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill would be alive, and so would Cancer. And X…X would still be his pacifistic self, living out his days in tranquility like he's always wanted to." Zero said it calmly, so patiently a child could have understood him. Underneath it all was a solid block in his mind…a solid belief that what he said was utterly true.

Hazil thought it over, the strain of the non-medical puzzle causing his head to hurt more than it usually did when he wasn't sloshed. The funny thing was, as much as he wanted to throw all of Zero's ramblings aside, tell the punk to straighten up his act, he couldn't. Because everything Zero said was true.

_If I hadn't been born…the world would be better off._

For a moment, Hazil thought he'd entered into a rerun of It's A Wonderful Life. He had to remind himself that he wasn't a wingless angel, and that the blond haired freak in front of him was no Jimmy Stewart.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." Hazil finally admitted, scratching at his head and cursing at himself for saying that the moment it left his mouth.

The answer hit him harder than Zero's response had. In that moment of revelation, Hazil knew what to say.

"Yes, what you've said is true." Hazil repeated in a voice that suddenly gained composure. "I suppose, seen through that telescopic lens, the world could have turned out differently." He wheeled the chair over and parked next to Zero, leaning in close. "But tell me…just follow me for a moment here. Let's say you never were awakened, that by some freak chance, you had died in your sleep, and you and Sigma never had that fateful duel in the desert. Let's say that Sigma remained Virus free, and that the Maverick Virus became removed from the equation entirely. What do you suppose the world would be like then??"

Numbly, Zero stared at Hazil, wondering with a little bit of annoyance why the medical reploid was doing this.

"Let's say that it's not Sigma that is responsible for causing the First Maverick Uprising. Let's assume instead that somewhere along the line, some other bumpkin with more of a head on his shoulders than the Hunters are comfortable with snaps up and starts to think those wonderful thoughts of roasted human on a spit and reploid supremacy on Earth. Now then, let's assume he sinks into hiding…goes real deep. Let's assume that he manages to put together a wicked faction of Mavericks unlike any that the world has ever seen before. Now let's assume that, as his first act against the tyrannic world, this new despot Maverick Lord leads an assault on the MHHQ, eliminating the force that will be the deciding factor in his defeat. Let's say he manages to trash the place up real good. Wrecks machinery, kills Hunters in cold blood, busts up our ability to respond to threats. He does the unspeakable, the unthinkable. He begins the FIRST MAVERICK UPRISING."

"No…" Zero uttered, shaking his head. "Hazil, no…"

"Let's say that he manages to eliminate a few Hunters, a few damned good ones in the process. And now, the big insult; suppose he decides to spare a few, gives them a choice. Join up with him and lead the repressed reploid race to its days of glory and a future left unshackled by the weak and inferior breed named _homo sapiens…_or perish as a traitor to the cause, and to their own kind. Undoubtedly a few Hunters would take him up on that bet…back then, I knew a lot of disgruntled warriors who came back with a hollow look in their eyes, eyes that seemed to scream guilt from taking down their brethren in cold blood."

Zero shook his head even more now. "Hazil, you can't…"

"And let's say that some souls see the carnage, see the path that their fellows are taking. Let's say that despite his pacifistic nature, X does what he inevitably must, what all members of his armor wearing family did; he steps up to the plate and vows to stop the transgressors, and to bring things back to a frozen peace. Sure, we don't have a Maverick Virus running things now. Now, we only have to worry about a despot with a silvery tongue and ice water running through his veins. We've traded in one monster for another. Not that much of a trade-in, if you ask me. And maybe this time, without somebody to be there to guide him, to train him in the ways of the warrior, like you did when he was still a young pup rookie in those traumatic days, X goes out and bites off more than he can chew. Let's say X bites the dust, killed at the hands of members of the race that in part, he is responsible for creating."

"Damnit, Hazil, stop this…"

"And one last thing; remember the World Trial of 2124?? Remember how close the GDC, and the entire structure of world governments and powers came to signing out the reploid species' death warrant?? Despite all of X's legal maneuvering, all of his convincing arguments, we would have lost the case and our lives, were it not for one sudden revelation that came from the laboratories of one Dr. Doppler, prestigious and abnormally brilliant scientist. It was his discovery of the Maverick Virus that shut the case down cold in its tracks. Suddenly, the world had a new monster to blame. The problem of Mavericks was no longer free-willed individuals striking out angrily, biting off the hand that had fed them like some crotchety German Shepherd. Thanks to the presence of the Maverick Virus in world affairs back then, the world decided that reploids could live a little longer. It was the Virus that was to blame…not us. But let's remember that we're discussing a future without you…without the influence of the Virus. X is already dead, a victim to the wars that the spawn of his designs started. The reploid race stands in open accusation in the World Court at New Amsterdam, and there's no blue wonderboy, no upstanding model of reploid citizenship acting as the defense. And worst of all, there's no Maverick Virus, no alternative cause for the world's woes. With no other wolf to pluck out of sheep's clothing, reploids face the full brunt of judgement. A proclamation is made; reploids are guilty as charged. Reploid production facilities are shut down, and standing orders are given to bring the existing reploids in for detainment, and if necessary…_eradication._ Sure, it may take a couple of years, but humanity doesn't mind. They can replenish their numbers damn quick, the womenfolk just need to spread their legs a little wider and out pops another darling baby boy, who in fifteen years will be primed and ready to take up the fight. Reploids may be stronger, faster, and may mature faster, but they can't match the sheer weight of numbers that stand against them. And so, who knows how many years later, the reploids are extinct. Dr. Light's grand dream of a world where humans and robots and their more advanced descendants all live in peace has been snuffed out like so many other beautiful dreams, tarnished by the passing of time and the inevitable corrupting influence that stands at the center of darkness in the human heart and soul. All because of one small change." Hazil finished, folding his arms again and staring at Zero. "Because you never woke up…and because The Maverick Virus never entered into it."

"Damnit, SHUT UP!!!" Zero screamed, rising to his feet in visible frustration. "All that you've been blabbering about is nothing but conclusions and might have beens!! That didn't happen, it couldn't have happened!!"

Hazil looked at Zero calmly, his eyes seeming to dance with a hint of joy as Zero's spark reappeared in that flash of anger.

"Exactly."

Zero fought his desire to tremble where he stood. No, this time that plume of heat from his rage hadn't been enough to awaken the spawning force within him. But it made him angry…how could Hazil suggest such a thing, such a horrible thing…

"You are once again, correct. 2 for 2 so far today, but while you catch the wager, you miss its significance." Hazil continued, unfolding his arms. "All that muttering I just did is just as you said it…a might have been, a course of history that thankfully didn't occur. But by the same token, apply that to yourself. You DID wake up, you DID fight Sigma, and the Maverick Virus DID appear. And we can wager and presume and theorize and guess all we want about all the ways that the world could have been, Zero, but in the end, it's just that. Theories and guesses. Not realities." Hazil stood back up, shaking his head. "You're so damn lost in your own guilt that you can't move forward, and something has to jar that from ya. It isn't healthy, and thinking about the way that the world might have been in the end will only allow you to wallow deeper and deeper into that vat of self-pity you've been pouring for yourself."

Zero's wall shattered then, the feeble structure he'd built up to keep Hazil out of his problems. Through tactical maneuvering, the medical reploid had found it and broken through with a grace and tact that Zero had only seen one other individual use before.

"You sounded a lot like Cain then." Zero spoke up after a moment's ponderance. Hazil sat back down and shook his head.

"Yeah. Hell, the guy's rubbed off on us all. One of the best damn humans I knew, and one of the few who gave a damn about reploids."

"It just seems like everybody that's important to me…has either died or is going away." Zero replied with some level of difficulty. He could feel tears threatening to come to him. "And you're just another one in the pile."

"Life's a series of roads, or so I've heard muttered to me from time to time." Hazil answered back easily. He put a hand on Zero's shoulder and patted his friend. "For a long time, my road was parallel to yours, and to Cain's, and to X's. But now the time has come for my road to split away. I'm tired of this place, Zero. Tired of being reminded that no matter how good a physician I am, that there will always be people who will suffer and die under my care. Cain was the last straw, the last thing tethering me here."

"What, me and X don't matter??" Zero asked, looking to the reploid with some level of disdain. Hazil snorted and smiled sadly.

"Hardly, Zee. You and X matter more than anyone else here now. It wasn't until recently I figured it out…but you two are the core. It's you two that keep this place running, that make the Hunters the viable force it is. Me, the others…we're here, and we do our job, but when all is said and done, Mavericks don't fear 'Grunt 1 and Grunt 2', they piss themselves when Mega Man X and Zero Omega walk through that door. And nobody aside from you two have ever been able to put Sigma in his place…and you do it time and time again."

"Christ, I don't need to hear that." Zero muttered, putting his head into his hands. "I'm tired of people looking at me like some kind of idol, and I bet X is too. We're not any more heroic than any other Hunter in this place, Hazil. We've just been doing it so long that we don't care as much about risking our necks as the greenhorns do. We're the CORE?? What kind of bull is that??"

"It's the truth…even though you don't want to believe it." Hazil muttered. He paused for a moment, then spoke up again. "I know that this past…incident's been a particularly difficult one for you to handle. But I can't stand to see you like this. Depressed, mopey, and suicidal are not a good combination. Not just for you, but for everybody else here." Hazil pulled his hand back. "The MHHQ has a new guy sitting in the chair we were all used to having Cain occupy. The Hunters have suffered heavy losses in the recent actions…and they need leadership now more than ever. Signas I think will turn out all right…despite my early forebodings, the bastard's shaping up to be a halfway decent fellow. At least he'll keep the GDC and those number crunchers off of your backs for ya. But they need you and they need X. It's a brand new world out there, and they need you."

Zero slowly pulled his face out of his hands, looking drained and exhausted. He felt it too.

"Life just won't give me a break."

"Life doesn't give anybody a break." Hazil reminded him. "Life isn't about balancing out good existences and terrible ones. Life is what you make of it. Look for shit, and you'll step in it. Look for sunshine and you'll blossom like a cornstalk in July. Take a look at X. He's been through Hell and back, and he's finished off Sigma more times than you've died or been out of action. When the battle's over, X sits back and relaxes. Until he's needed again, he's content to watch the brighter side of life. That's one thing you have never done…to sit back and notice the good things in life."

"Every time I do, they die on me." Zero answered back, his voice cracking. "I can't afford happiness. They won't let me have it."

Hazil paused for a moment, knowing what was running through Zero's mind. **_Iris._**

"Tell me, Zero…when Iris died, did she blame you for her death?"

"No. Never."

"In the end, what did she want for you?"

"She wanted me to be happy."

"And because she died…you can't?" Hazil asked, turning the point about with a headshake. "If you did love her, you'd remember her wishes for you. As you are now, you can't be happy. Pining for her won't make you happy, and it won't fulfill her dying wish. I know right now, that lesson isn't sinking in. But trust me on this. Iris wanted you to be happy. So let it go, Zero. Just let it go. And turn to the people you trust and care for now. You still have X. He's still there, Zero…still your friend, no matter what. He's ventured into Hell and back to pull you from grave and damnation, and with no thought of reward. He did it because he didn't want to lose you, because you were his friend. And I was right about what I said earlier. No matter how many of us come and go…you two will always have each other. Remember us, keep us in your memories. But know that when you need somebody to walk the road with you, he'll always be there, always be your friend no matter what."

Zero sat mutely, absorbing Hazil's comments. And finally, the medical reploid sighed. "Christ, I'm too old for this bullshit anymore. You youngins never listen to old codgers like me anyhow. No wonder I'm leaving." He finished with some trace of his usual bedside humor.

Zero looked up, composed again but still sad. "Have you thought at all about what you're going to do when you leave?? And who's going to take over as CMO when you walk out that door?"

Hazil scratched at his head. "Well…I figured that in over 13 years of life, I haven't seen that much of the world. Maybe I'll go on a long and extended touring vacation, see the sights. It's not like I need to worry about money. Aside from all the booze over the years, I lived quite frugally. And as far as my replacement…I got an E-Mail back from Signas last night. He said he regretted my decision to leave the Hunters, but he'd abide by it. From now on, your major medical duties will be seen to by a guy from some mass produced reploid series…What was his name, LifePreserver, SoulSaver…no, DUH. Lifesaver, sorry." Hazil plucked out a datapadd and handed it to Zero, who stared at the picture on the screen of the reploid who would be Hazil's replacement.

He looked, in a word, dull as a child's plastic bowie knife.

"He needs a suppository stuffed up where the sun don't shine." Zero muttered. Hazil chuckled a bit as he took the datapadd back.

"You be sure to tell him that when you go in for your first checkup." He winked. "But aside from his stoic and businesslike manner, he's a competent fellow. I ran a search on his career, and he made quite a name for himself in the GDC corps of medical engineers. He'll do fine by this place, provided that you and X and the rest of the Hunters can knock the usual sense into him about having a life and a sense of humor."

"Wait a second…" Zero paused, looking up with sudden horror. "He'll have access to all the old medical records…even…"

"What, yours??" Hazil announced, opening up his chest compartment again. "Already a step ahead of you." He pulled out a plain manilla envelope and plopped it in Zero's lap. "He won't find anything on your medical records about your spat with the Maverick Virus about a year ago. You're clean, and according to my records that he'll find, an upstanding example of Hunter elite. All the garbage we had to go through with your origins and the Virus twelve months ago and some is in that lovely stack of letterhead sitting over your non-existent Johnson."

"Am I clean??" Zero asked, looking up at Hazil pleadingly. The medical reploid nodded.

"Just finished my last official checkup on you. You're 100% Virus-free, just as you've been for some time."

Zero's heart sank.

_He can't detect it…just as well. He might as well leave thinking he's saved me._

Zero stared at the envelope for some time, holding it there in his left hand between thumb and forefinger.

Without much fanfare, he calmly transformed his right arm into a Buster and vaporized the entire contents with a low grade discharge.

Hazil watched the darkest of his medical files vanish into dust with some level of relief and release. "And that was that." He exhaled then, shaking his head. "I've done all I can for you, boy. Just remember; no matter how dark it gets, you don't have to face it alone. He'll always be standing there, just behind you. Don't push him away, and don't refuse his help. He's your friend, through thick, thin, and everything else."

Hazil shut his chest compartment one final time and walked towards the door, hand in his doctor's coat pocket and humming a slow tune.

Zero looked up after him. "Where are you going??"

Hazil paused and turned about, half smiling and half scowling. "What, you think you're my only patient?? Hush and let an old reploid wander where the wind takes him."

Hazil turned back about and walked out of Zero's room, the hydraulic hiss of the door somehow louder as it closed behind him and left Zero alone once more.

But then, as Zero sat there and thought…

He realized that he wasn't as alone now as he thought he was.

Outside, Hazil calmly strolled down the hallway, shaking his head. "Old friends keep in touch, Zero. The ones who are alive." He felt a small spark of sadness as he remembered Bolt and Storm Eagle, and Spark Mandrill. "And even I'm not too sure about the dead ones."

And then he remembered where he was going…And for what purpose.

"Speaking of friends…" He mumbled, accessing his comm and patching in a secure line. He punched in a very old, but very forgotten and very secret number.

Hazil had almost forgotten about him.

For a moment, Willow wondered why her systems were slowly activating out of stasis. It took her a few moments to remember that despite the horrendous damage Jowers had inflicted on her systems within Ice Beacon, a certain stubborn fellow had come back down into the ruined structure and pulled her away from death's grasp.

_Idiot._

Still, her usually harsh feelings seemed to dissipate a little when she thought of him. And that hadn't happened in a very long time.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Came a chipper voice. Willow opened her eyes begrudgingly and peered out at the world.

It was J.K. Horn who stood at her side, smiling quietly and looking almost like a real doctor as he stood there in his white lab coat.

"Traded the Hawaiian shirt in, finally?" She queried, slowly rising to her feet.

"Hardly." Horn murmured back with a shake of his head, tugging at the sides of his current garb. "But people around here spend less time looking at me funny when I'm in one of these than when I'm hoofing it in sandals and shorts so gaudy they scream _tourist._"

Willow winced at the height of her upswing, one hand reaching down to her stomach…the same place where Jowers had run her through. "Damnit…" She wheezed. It pulsed at her, screaming through slashes of pain.

Horn tsked, reaching a firm hand over and preventing her from tipping over from a sudden loss of balance. "Take it easy, slugger. Hazil did a fine job patching you up…but the repairs he did on your busted up inner workings hasn't had time to fully set yet. Treat it like a new bone. DELICATELY. I'm afraid that for the moment, your routine of strenuous activity is being revoked. Doc's orders."

"I never trusted doctors." Willow growled, staring at Horn with slightly annoyed eyes. Horn simple smiled back and nodded his graying head of hair.

"Neither did I. That's why I'm just an engineer." He pulled his arm back and reached into his coat pocket for a moment, pulling out two seemingly unrelated objects; a pair of sunglare proof glasses that seemed more prone to resembling part of a helmet, and a beam weapon cylinder that seemed heavily modified.

"You were brought in with these." He motioned, handing them to her. "And I gave your weapon an overhaul while I was at it."

"You did _what??"_ Willow uttered incredulously. Horn shrugged with a brief smile.

"Flip it on."

She did so, and the chain links slid out, uncoiling like a poisonous snake ready to strike. Only now, she noticed something different about them.

They hadn't been that clean in a long time.

"Recharged your batteries while I was at it, too." Horn ventured calmly. "You've put that wonderful little invention of yours through the ringer because of everything you've been through, but I set it back to rights. Another couple of weeks without a tuneup and the plasma focus crystal in the cylinder would have blown off your hand from its degrading accuracy."

She turned the length back and forth a few times, then let the links slip back into the cylinder with a satisfying hiss. Placing it back where it belonged, she harrumphed, her face lightening up a bit. "I don't understand why you and everybody else goes out of their way to help me."

"Because you're a friend now." Horn said, a little surprised. "Isn't that reason enough??"

Willow looked up at him and his slightly puzzled stare, then shook her head. She looked down at the other object in her hand, Wycost's most treasured possession, his sunglasses, then quietly hid them from sight.

"If you say so." She checked her wrist gauntlets, noting that her systems had only worked up to two blasts out of four. Then again, considering how badly damaged she had been, it was a miracle she was even alive. "I've not really made a habit out of trusting anyone."

"Nobody blames you for that." Bristol said calmly, appearing from another section of the Medical Bay and walking up to her old and now reunited friend before giving her a hug. Willow accepted it somewhat more warmly than she would with anybody else, then pulled away and looked at Bristol.

"And how do ye be doing, lass?" Willow queried, letting her Irish lilt sink back to full strength. Bristol smiled brilliantly and squeezed Willow's hand.

"I'm doing just fine. For the first time in years…I'm happy."

Willow gave Bristol a slightly off center stare. "Does that have to do more with the fact that we stopped Ice Beacon from going off, or more from the fact that you've found love?"

Bristol just seemed to beam a little brighter before shrugging. "Bastion was there for me when I had lost myself, when I thought that I was alone in this world. He stood by me then, and he's always stood by me since then. He's not just somebody to push away the loneliness with a few fleeting moments of glory…he'll always be there when I need him, my shining knight."

"You were always so boned up on those old fairytales." Willow said quietly, letting her eyes dim out some. "If anybody deserved storybook love, it would have to be you."

Bristol's smile faded some, the implications of Willow's words sinking in. "I'm sorry…I had forgotten about…"

"It's in the past now, lass." Willow reassured her friend, smiling weakly and patting her hand. "Nary more can be done. I don't think I can kill him anymore than I have."

Willow got off of the medical cot and rose unsteadily to her feet, looking around the room. "So where is everybody?"

"Hazil had some last minute things to attend to. Wycost is down trying to locate Doan, and as far as Pharaoh Man is concerned, we've had virtually no luck reaching him. Only person who could is Hazil, and to my knowledge, he forgot to give him a ring."

Willow looked at Bristol oddly. "Why would we need to get everybody back together??"

"Because…" A commanding voice uttered calmly as he walked into the room with his helmet underneath his arm, "There are still certain matters left to be discussed." Bastion walked into the room, an imposing figure even without his strangely crafted headgear on. He let his blue eyes scan left and right. "Still a few members short, I see. How are you holding up, Willow?"

"Good enough." She muttered back, tired of answering questions about her condition. "Until you see me curl up and begin to cough my lifeblood out, be satisfied with that answer." Bastion stared at her for a moment, then harrumphed and smiled.

"Stubborn."

"Get used to it." She shot back. "And just what sort of things do you mean by 'left to be discussed'??"

"What's still left to be done." Bastion replied. Willow glared at him and shook her head.

"You're referring to the elements of MI9 that are still in the shadows."

"An astute wager." J.K. Horn acknowledged, stepping next to Bastion with an informed look on his face. "And there are a few other things as well."

"Now I remember why I only travel in small groups…" Willow muttered, stumbling over to a corner and sitting down cross-legged. "Fine. You want to discuss matters, go right ahead. Until then, let me sit in some peace for a change…something I haven't had an opportunity to do in some time."

She let her head relax, sinking into a quiet half slumber. Bristol glanced at her friend with some measure of concern, then sighed. She walked to the other side of the room, where Bastion followed her and squeezed her arm.

"Is she going to be all right?" He asked.

"Who, Willow??" Bristol said back quietly. "She'll be fine, as fine as she can be. But I don't think she likes the idea of having to deal with MI9 any more than I do."

"We've all had to make adjustments." Bastion said back. He fingered the Unit insignia on his shoulder applet and sighed. "Mine was retiring from the Hunters. After what we did, I can't return to my normal duties. Not anymore."

Horn stared at Bastion. "It's kind of hard to explain to your superiors that the reason you went AWOL from the biggest struggle in weeks was because you had to go kill humans. But have you given any thought to what you're going to do next?"

Bastion harrumphed a bit and sat down, shaking his head.

"That, my old friendly rival, is the purpose of this meeting." He reached for his wristcomm. "Which will begin, as soon as I've gotten everybody back in here that needs to be."

Wycost woke up with a little less grace than he would have normally liked, but the result did what it needed to.

With a snort, he pulled his head up from its rested position on his arm, eyes blinking furiously as he reasserted his surroundings.

His vision slowly whirred into focus, and Wycost was grateful to discover he was coming back out of stasis in a place with unusually low lighting. Then again, the bars here at the MHHQ were usually dark places. Both of them.

_Christ, what time is it…_Wycost grumbled silently, pulling up his internal chronometer and wincing at the result. _That late already, huh…Well, __9:15__'s perfectly acceptable for drunks and world heroes._

"I ordered last call six hours ago." The bartender, a modified Canine class reploid named Pugs, the spitting image of a pug dog given artificial form announced as he finished drying out the last of his shot glasses. He gave Wycost a crooked stare and shook his head. "You didn't even have that much to drink, fella. Must have been one Hell of a night, eh?"

"Must have been, Pugs." Wycost grumbled, pushing himself off of the countertop and yawning. "I don't usually visit _The Last Round, _especially not recently."

Pugs gave him an odd look, as if dredging in the back of his mind for some ancient memory. "You kinda look familiar, fella…You a Hunter?"

"I was, once." Wycost replied, putting down a ten credit card by his empty whiskey glass. "Then things changed."

"Things always change." Pugs agreed, reaching across the counter and snatching up the payment with practiced ease. "That's the only constant in life that I've discovered."

"I didn't think that things changed in a place like this." Wycost replied back, looking around before flipping his sunglasses back down over his face. Pugs chuckled, a sort of yelping bark that repeated itself low in his throat.

"It's not the environment here that changes. I haven't had to replace a barstool in years. It's the people, bud. Hunters come and go. Some live on like stubborn bastards, others die fighting a war against their kinsmen. I get used to seeing new faces in these parts, and they come for all reasons."

"Is that so?" Wycost mused, lifting an eyebrow and picking up his black leather jacket. He flipped it over his shoulder and reached for a toothpick from the dish by the peanuts. He put it in his mouth, quietly chewing on the end.

"Some come to drink themselves into oblivion, forget the life they lead." Pugs answered sagely. "Others come here to toast victory, or to say goodbye to friends who've fallen in the fight. But no matter what the reason, they come here. They all come here eventually."

"You must do pretty well for yourself." Wycost said, only using half of his attention to focus on Pugs. "A place like this must pull in a hefty sum every now and then."

"Wars and alcohol go hand in hand." Pugs shrugged with a sad smile. "At least I don't have to boot out too many drunks. They do that themselves."

"At least that hasn't changed since I retired." Wycost harrumphed sadly, accessing his warp generator and letting his metallic gauntlets and white gloves appear on his arms with a quiet whine and flicker of light. "People here always did treat alcohol as an escape mechanism. Lord knows I did."

_Come on, Doan…let's go get you drunk._

Even now, that memory flashed in Wycost's mind. Silently, he harrumphed. Memories. Annoying things.

He started walking towards the door, jacket flung over his shoulder and sunglasses down over his eyes. Years of wearing them had made his optics incredibly sensitive to light. The same trick he used on his foes, the Strobe Flash, would probably blow out every sight oriented transistor in his skull were it not for his protective gear. He could see the light from the rest of the awakened MHHQ creeping underneath the hydraulic sliding doors that led into _The Last Round._ It almost caused him to recoil before he regained his composure.

_I've spent enough time in the darkness._

Pugs scratched behind his ears, then let his eyes widen.

"Hey…Hey, I remember you!! You're that green guy, that one Hunter…Wycost, isn't it?? Yeah, I've seen you before. Not in a while, but…Was it true what the rumors were?? Did you turn Maverick?"

Wycost paused and turned around, maneuvering the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

He stared at Pugs the Bartender for a long moment before shrugging.

"Rumors, Pugs. Drunks say a lot of crazy things. Besides, if I went Maverick, why did I bust my ass saving Cairo back in Sigma's Sixth??"

"Good point." Pugs sighed. "Still…you were good, fella. Why did you just up and leave after that?"

Wycost shrugged again, allowing Pugs a small smile.

"Sometimes, Pugs, the question is not why a person does what they do…but how they go about it."

Wycost turned about and flipped a hand over his shoulder as he walked out the door. "_Jaa__ ne._"

The door shut quietly behind him, and Pugs was left alone in a bar that was finally, almost sadly, empty.

The Canine class reploid harrumphed and took his bartender's apron off, setting it on the counter and reaching underneath to flip off the 'now serving' switch.

"It takes all kinds." He muttered.

Outside, Wycost walked down the hall from the lower levels of the main building of the MHHQ, rubbing at his temple. It figured Isaiah would leave his last message right when he was nursing a hangover.

And apparently, people weren't done bugging him today. His wristcomm chose that moment to go off, making the Bronx Bomber wince from the annoying chirp. With precision honed over years of the same irritation and its anathema, he punched in the receive switch. "Yo. Start talking and make it good."

"Glad to see you're finally awake." Came the bemused voice of Bastion. "We were wondering where you'd gone off to."

"I was toasting some spirits with spirits." Wycost replied in a deadpan tone. "Now then, is there a point to this little message, or do you just enjoy messing with my hangovers?"

"A little of both. But right now, I need you to do some scouting. Find Doan and drag him up to the Medical Bay. There's a little impromptu meeting you're both invited to."

"Some days Bastion, I swear you enjoy messing with me." Wycost groaned, very glad his sunglasses were down. The hall lights were buzzing with fluorescent overexcitement.

"Dream on." Bastion chortled, shutting off the connection.

Wycost lowered his wrist away from his mouth and put on his leather coat, arms slipping easily into the faded and worn sleeves of treated cowhide. He kept the toothpick in his mouth and strolled down the hallway, now meandering with a purpose.

_Dream on._

_ That's exactly what I've been doing, Bastion._

Signas sat back in the reclining leather chair that sat in his office and stared at his computer for several seconds. He was nearly in shock as he let his calm eyes try to stop themselves from blinking furiously.

A lot had happened since he had arrived here, not more than seven days before. A week's worth of real time had squeezed itself out to more nonsense than he would have liked. It was thanks in part to that that Signas now understood the sort of roller coaster that these Maverick Hunters rode on nearly every day.

This was no longer Cain's office. He finally felt comfortable stating that fact, and the reception he'd gotten from the surviving Hunters seemed to support it. The gauntlet, it seemed, had been passed. For now.

They had taken losses, to be sure, but thanks to Signas's plan, the Maverick Generals had been exterminated by the element of surprise, and Sigma's escape had led Zero straight to him.

There was plenty of fuzzy gray area in the midst of that victory, though. Plenty of it. Like what exactly had happened in that underground fortress in Greenland, and why Zero had returned being dragged by X, missing an arm and what seemed to be a large part of his psyche. X was tight lipped on the issue if he knew anything, which given the confused glance on his face, might not have been much in the first place.

Signas's inquisitions into Zero's condition had been met headfirst by Hazil, the CMO at MHHQ who had tendered his resignation not long before. Hazil had given Signas a very plain, very accusatory stare before finally giving his diagnosis. _"Sigma loves to play mind games, Signas. Stay in this place long enough and you'll realize that. There's nothing wrong with Zero, nothing that time and some existence away from this place won't cure. This whole place has been through Hell. Just trust that by now, we know how to patch up our wounds." _Hazil had continued to banter with Signas for some time after that…finishing with the simple truth that yes, he was still leaving…but he wasn't as worried about the MHHQ as he was when Signas first showed up.

Sigma II floated in his fishbowl, back in the office that had been Cain's. That was Hazil's silent acknowledgement that the torch had finally been passed. And somehow, given the medical reploid's disposition, that quirky off glare was probably the most Signas would ever get from him.

Even the ranks of the Hunters themselves were shifting now, the balance readjusting to fit a new leadership structure. Commander Bastion of the 21st 'Lightning Strike' Unit had been AWOL during the recent exercise against Sigma and his Maverick forces. Bastion had not even given an official reason for his lack of presence. Signas could forgive many things in his new role, but not desertion.

So Bastion had retired. Officially. Gave his notice and informed Signas that the 21st Unit would be led by one of its core members, with the stipulation that before he left, there was one particular ceremony he wanted to have done.

Signas had been told by X and by Zero both in those whirlwind days that Bastion was a top notch individual whose head was in the right place. Whatever reasons 'The Desert Angel' had for his actions were his. At least it kept things cleaner. It took less paperwork to tender a couple of resignations than a court martial.

But all of that was things that were local, things that occurred HERE. Here, at the MHHQ, in this base that Signas would call home from here until eternity. Why he sat stunned in his chair was none of those things.

It was the blinking correspondence on his computer monitor, sent by the GDC Security Council, the tightly knit 'inner circle' that controlled the main political body. It was through their actions that Signas had been given the assignment to run the MHHQ in place of James Cain.

And now, with his eyes and heart opened by the Maverick Hunters, Signas looked at their movements with wary eyes, and recognized the ploy.

_To Commander Signas, Director of Maverick Hunter Affairs,_

_ Congratulations on your recent successes against the continuing threat of Sigma and the Irregular reploid forces. Despite some predictions by our expert analysts, the loss of James Cain did not prove to be a factor of degradation in the Hunter's performance._

_ We are of course, aware and a little concerned over the more 'touchy' issues surrounding your relationship with the Maverick Hunters. A group that does not listen to its leader cannot well function, especially given the 'Terrorist' nature of your foes. Your status reports have been observed and thought upon._

_ As of one hour after you will receive this report, the GDC Security Council has reached a general consensus about the MHHQ in relation to the rest of the GDC's affiliates. Under the watchful eye of James Cain, the Hunters have always been the 'cowboy enforcers', to use a term that the late Emilius Cristoph coined. This near vigilante style somehow kept itself together for more than a decade, despite various crises and tragedies that befell the organization and the HQ outside of New __Tokyo__. However, in light of your recent concerns, the GDC feels that the MHHQ can no longer operate under these loose reins. _

_ You are hereby given full authority to place the MHHQ and the Maverick Hunters, as well as all associated facilities (A.K.A. Cain Labs) under direct GDC control, with yourself existing as the intermediary between GDC HQ in New Amsterdam and the MHHQ as it stands._

_ This change of command will in no way affect the Hunter's basis of operation, nor will it impede on their admirable performance record. It will merely allow the GDC to keep a closer eye on the MHHQ and to ensure a stable, uniform system of operation between the MHHQ and other affiliates._

_ Reply back in a week's time with news on the shift. If there is resistance, inform HQ immediately. Measures will be taken at your request._

_ -GDC Security Council_

Signas brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing it as he blinked at the message for the umpteenth time in minutes.

It brought to mind several things, questions that spanned out longer than a Buster supershot could carry. Signas had never doubted that the GDC was operating under the best of intentions for all of Earth during his time and training under their stead.

But now, now that he had been released from their fold and sent out into the world, and had been shown that there was more to life than cold calculations and numbers, that a soul and spirit were factors that could only be felt…

He didn't know. And his memory, flawless as ever, remembered what Zero had barked at him days before, when X had raced off to Karashita Tower and come back in stasis, defeated.

"**_The GDC's never trusted us completely, we were the black sheep that they sent out to deal with Cain's rebellious children. With him out of the picture, they figured they could send somebody to control the Maverick Hunters completely, dig their Goddamned hooks in real deep and at last rope in the last law enforcement group that gets anything useful DONE. That's YOU, Signas. You're nothing more than a GDC lapdog, programmed to bark at their command and issue orders based on their whims."_**

"I need to think about this." Signas sighed, taking his cap off and setting it down on his desk.

In the dim blue lighting of the room, he turned and stared over to Sigma II, calmly swimming to and fro in the goldfish bowl that had been carved out of the shell of one of the Maverick Generals from the First Uprising…Armored Armadillo, as Signas recalled.

The goldfish blubbed and vented water through its gills, tiny fins waving gently in the calm water as he stared at Signas with his unblinking eyes.

"What do you think, fella?" Signas asked the goldfish, his eyes resigned and suddenly weary.

The goldfish blubbed a little more and floated to the bottom of the bowl, hiding inside of his plastic shoe. Signas harrumphed.

"Yeah. That's what I was thinking too."

He minimized the E-Mail and pushed the leather chair away from the desk, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling again.

"Just what am I supposed to do now…" He whispered, asking for guidance from a source he couldn't comprehend. "What should I do??"

If walls could speak, Signas was hearing them.

_Do what's right._

He was having a tough time deciding just what right was anymore.

Doan was inside of the MHHQ's hangar bay, calmly sitting in the cockpit of a somewhat old 'Chimera' class walker 'Mech and drumming his fingers on the outside edge of the vehicle. The reason for this was that Cleo was trying to tune up the rusted relic from 2121 and had enlisted him in helping her with the job. Which, seeing as she didn't trust him to do more than hold a wrench when she was working, kept his duties limited to turning the thing on and off.

She emerged from the undercarriage, wiping a thin line of sweat from her forehead while keeping a screwdriver clenched between her teeth. Blue colored hydraulic fluid stained her work coveralls and yellow armor, while her hair was kept back with a failing hairband, giving her a bedraggled look.

Even then, Doan thought she looked more beautiful than ever.

"All right." She exhaled, dropping the screwdriver in her hand. "Try it now."

Doan turned back to the cockpit and activated the hulking machine, hearing the whine of the devices' internal microfusion generator powering back up from its inactive state.

Slowly, the systems came online one by one, the flashing lights and the HUD flickering on with various shades of greens and, sometimes yellows.

"Oil pressure is still a little low." Doan murmured. Cleo's face reddened and she swore underneath her breath.

"That blasted…I'm gonna tear it out and punch a couple more holes in it MYSELF before we're through here." She ran a hand over her face and exhaled loudly. "Well, all right. Try it out, let's see if I managed to get the leg servos back in decent order."

Doan nodded and grabbed onto the control stick, pushing it forward in a gentle and practiced glide. It had been a while since he'd driven one of these, but he still remembered that they were touchy. A jerk triggered the dash mechanism, a feature Cleo still wasn't positive was completely safe on this piece of machinery yet.

The legs seemed to groan in protest before the hydraulics finally kicked in, the hiss of the pump forcing the behemoth sized left leg up and then forward in a steady arch, coming back down to Earth four feet later and crunching home with satisfaction.

Cleo nodded, motioning with her hand. "Good, now the other one." She said, in a voice that a person might use to encourage a child learning to walk for the first time.

"Yes, mom." Doan muttered under his breath with a half smile.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, dear." Doan quickly made the right leg swing out in an imitation of its partner before Cleo could voice any more suspicions.

The right leg groaned a little, hopped up into the air two feet and promptly froze in midair, leaving the Chimera Mech with its weight unevenly distributed and near teetering.

"DAMNIT!!" Cleo swore, kicking the piece of machinery in the nonfunctioning leg. "Goddamn rusted sonofa…"

Doan tried his best to maintain his composure as the 'Mech tipped sideways with him still in it. At seemingly the last moment before the groaning machine fell completely over, Doan pounded the cutoff switch to the Chimera's engines and jumped out, rolling away with an unruffled calm about him.

An uneasy calm fell over the Hangar Bay for a few moments as the Chimera 'Mech collapsed onto the ground with a groaning crunch, the rest of the engineers and technicians in the spacious facility looking over towards Cleo and Doan with a variety of expressions ranging from annoyance to humorous contempt.

"Unless you're the Fonz, I wouldn't suggest pounding things to make them work!!" A reploid 'Tech by the name of Zemos shouted with a dose of chuckling. The rest of the Hangar Bay crew fell into scattered laughter at the comment, and Cleo's face turned red.

Doan walked over next to her and put an arm on her shoulder.

"Aah, don't listen to them. They're not trying to repair this piece of scrap."

Cleo shook her head. "Yeah, I know that…but for some reason, I can't figure out how this thing's leg systems won't respond!"

Before Doan could utter a reply, the sound of the doors leading to the underground walkways that connected to the rest of the MHHQ complex hissed open. Doan turned calmly, and wasn't all that surprised to see who now walked into what most ground pounding Hunters called 'The Scrap Yard'.

"Somehow, I figured you might be dropping by again." Doan said, wiping his hands on his legs and walking towards the newcomer with a small smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah." Wycost muttered, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "I'm making too much of a habit about revisiting my old haunts. I'd better stop it before I get predictable." He looked around the Hangar Bay, focusing on the collapsed 'Mech. "What the Hell are you doing to Gracie?"

"Gracie??" Cleo murmured, lifting an eyebrow as she walked over to Wycost and Doan. "You named that Chimera 'Mech Gracie??"

"I have this odd habit of naming the vehicles I take a liking to." Wycost replied calmly. "Gracie's a little bigger than most girls, but she packs a wallop. So I repeat again, what the Hell are you doing to Gracie?"

"Trying to make it work." Cleo snapped. "Your little pet has some kinks in its legwork I just can't figure out."

Wycost lifted his sunglasses up into his hair and strolled over next to the 'Mech, running a hand along the frozen right leg. He opened up the external armor port and peered inside at the internal structure for a few moments before harrumphing and shutting the door.

Turning about, he leaned up against the fallen 'Mech and flipped his glasses back down, leaving his right arm dangling out while stuffing his left hand into his coat.

In one swift motion, he swung his right hand down against the leg with minute force, hitting a region just below the knee. Immediately, the right leg let out a sudden hiss and finished its rotation, no longer frozen in midstep.

Doan lifted an eyebrow. Cleo's jaw dropped. Wycost shrugged and walked back over to them.

"How the…how did you…" Cleo stammered in disbelief, her eyes wide.

Wycost allowed himself a shit-eating grin before speaking. "Gracie's a real temperamental gal. No matter how many times the 'Techs here have replaced her hydraulic lines, she always manages to develop a clot in it every now and then. You just gotta give her a lovetap below the knee, and she'll always break it up." He turned towards Doan, his business in the Hangar Bay done. "Now then…I assume I've just solved your little technical problem?"

Doan nodded. Wycost clucked his tongue. "Good. Then if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you to accompany me to the Medical Bay. For reasons unknown to this recovering New Yorker, Bastion's decided that a little pow-wow of all the players in our little vigilante group is required."

"Right." Doan grunted, turning to Cleo. "I'll be back in a while."

"Yeah…sure…" Cleo said distantly, staring incredulously at the unmoving and toppled Chimera.

Wycost and Doan turned and walked out of the Hangar Bay and into the underground hallways, their faces both grim once more.

Wycost looked down the nearly empty corridor with a level of reverence, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. The MHHQ, as it was known, was bigger than most outsiders knew it to be. In fact, if one stared at the schematics of this line of defense against Maverick aggression, they would inevitably comment that it looked like a starfish with skinny legs and fat hands.

Wycost preferred to think of the sprawling MHHQ oasis as more of a Sheriff's star design, like something copied straight out of the Old West. He almost stopped walking for a moment as the reference to his dreams hit home…almost, but kept going.

At the center of the sprawling mess was the main building, where the War Room and the Medical Bay and most of the core functions lay. The extensions, such as the archive building, the lower level Hunter barracks, the assembly hall, the Memorial Park, and the Hangar Bay, could all be reached by walking outside from point to point on the surface. But if there was need, a person could also use the underground corridors. Which was what he and Doan were using to reach the central complex.

"You know, I remember being told somewhere in my life that even if you cut off the stinger of a scorpion, the rest of him is still there." Doan mused, keeping his face staring ahead as he broke the silence.

Wycost blinked behind his glasses and let his friend's comment sink in.

"Must have been after you left for Japan. I don't ever remember you mentioning that when I knew ya in New York." The two plodded on for a ways before Wycost continued. "If it were anyone else, I'd ask if you were just shooting the breeze. But I know what you're doing, and cut it out. It's not an option that at all piques my interest."

"Have my hunches ever steered me wrong?" Doan asked Wycost with a hint of humor.

For once, the Bronx Bomber sighed at Doan's comments. "Honestly Doan, I couldn't say. I knew ya back when you were still getting your bearings…back when you first picked up a real Buster and waylaid those Mavericks in the luggage store with me. But after that…" Wycost shook his head. "Times changed."

"Times always change." Doan replied. "It doesn't mean I'm not the same person you knew back then."

"Aah, but you're not." Wycost retorted, smiling sadly. "I knew Doan the almost hero…not Doan, Maverick Hunter and ex-vigilante."

"And I knew Wycost, Maverick SWAT operative for New York City's strained law enforcement agency." Doan answered back just as easily. "Not ex-Maverick Wycost, who joined up with the Maverick Hunters because of a vendetta against the people who left him with a black scar down his Buster arm." Wycost lowered his head and stared at his right arm. Yes, there had been a black line that had run down the axis of it at one time, a momento of his infection. After the second Internal Deletion a little over a month before, it had finally vanished. Though he still carried the mental scars.

"Touché." Wycost finally said in a quiet voice.

Doan offered no continuing comment.

Neither did Wycost.

They let the sound of their footsteps down the underground corridor do the talking for them.

_Siberian Wilderness_

_5:11 A.M.__June 28th, 2131 A.D.___

_Cossack's Citadel, Fourth Ring(Inner Sanctum)_

"You destroyed Ice Beacon with about a second remaining?" Drill Man queried to Pharaoh Man, lifting an eyebrow.

The goldenrod and silver armored robot nodded his head. "It was very close in the end…down to the wire, as the saying goes. But somehow, we all did it. Our attacks were strong enough to overwhelm the emergency transmitter dish and turn it into a tower of scrap."

Drill Man brought up the pointed stump of his left arm up and scratched thoughtfully at his chin. "Could it really have done what this 'Willow' person claimed it could?"

Pharaoh Man frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "Do you mean, was there the possibility that they may have been lying, and that I acted in pursuit of a goal that was wrong?"

"Precisely." Drill Man nodded. "It is that possibility that concerns me. You did, after all, cause the death of human beings…something that the rest of us cannot do. Did this freedom…did it allow you to act wrongly?"

"If it did, then I would only be human." Pharaoh Man said, a small smile appearing on his face as he finished his sentence. "But no, Drill Man. I participated in a mission that I have no doubt was a correct choice. If our foes were truly innocent, they would not have subjected us to aerial bombardment…nor would they have dispatched ground forces to deal with us. They had every intention of killing us, Drill Man. And had the signal been transferred as the members of this 'MI9' planned to, I have no doubt that the consequences would have been as dire as that Irish-toned reploid indicated. The blond one named Bristol agreed with her…I never caught the entire story, but apparently the two of them once belonged to MI9. Did I kill humans?? Yes. I killed humans. But they were not innocent, Drill Man. I now understand the trouble with morality that humans have…that Mega Man once had."

Drill Man looked at him blankly. "Morality?? You mean, is it just to kill a living being because they intend to cause greater harm to others, that kind of question?"

"That's the precise question. Do you know an answer to it??" Pharaoh Man pressed, looking eagerly into Drill Man's eyes.

The only response he got was complete confusion. Finally, Drill Man winced.

"I…I cannot answer that question. The First Law causes too much conflict."

Pharaoh Man's face went ashen. "I am sorry. I should have known that you would not be able to shift through the necessary calculations to that question."

Drill Man shook his head, visibly relaxed now that the strain of the query had been lifted. "You do not need to apologize, nor feel any sort of sadness for my condition, Pharaoh Man. It is not your fault that my functioning still relies on the guidelines and foundations of the Three Laws to calculate my processes. Instead, you should feel something akin to a sense of joy…because you have fulfilled the hopes of our creator, Sergei Cossack. You have surpassed your boundaries, by what Mistress Kalinka called a miracle. And most of all, you have become a credible leader to us all…even leading us to victory in battle against Maverick reploids in our country's capital, against odds that we, by all logic, should not have been able to overcome." Drill Man nodded as he finished his statement, agreeing with every word of it. "I am sorry that I let my own doubts cloud the matter. In part, I think I understand that you comprehend things far greater than any of us do anymore. And I would follow any decision you made with complete faith. As any of us would."

Pharaoh Man absorbed Drill Man's massive compliment, then leaned back into the control room's chair and relaxed with a smile.

"You realize Drill Man, that that is the most expressive statement you have ever voiced."

Drill Man blinked. "Yes…it it was." He turned about and stared at the elevator not too far off as it hissed open. "I suppose the rest of us are still growing as well."

It was Kalinka who strolled out of the elevator and into the relative quiet and darkness of the Fourth Ring, the lowermost level of Cossack's Fortress. And for a change, given the traumatic past week and a half, she looked at peace.

She saw Pharaoh Man and Drill Man by the communications console and waved at them, pulling her warm red fur coat around herself tighter.

"Good morning, Mistress Kalinka." Drill Man announced, taking a slight bow. "Isn't it a little early for you to be up?"

"I know it's a while until breakfast." Kalinka sighed. "I just couldn't sleep."

"That's going to be something I think we're all going to have trouble doing for a while." Pharaoh Man agreed calmly. He stood up and offered his chair to Kalinka. "Though if you were to sleep, I imagine you'd have nothing but sweet dreams."

"Having you back is all the comfort I need." Kalinka replied, smiling slightly with a twinkle in her eye. She accepted the chair and relaxed with a sigh. "I've been such a fool until now."

"Why do you say that?" Drill Man asked, tilting his head to the side.

"All these years…I almost resented all of you. I resented you because of all the times my father didn't pay attention to me because he was busy with all of you, keeping you functioning, making sure that you all were kept in perfect working order. There were times I even thought he cared for you more than he cared about me…"

"Sadly Kalinka, you are his progeny." Pharaoh Man corrected her with a smile. "He would always love you, because you were his daughter."

"I know that now, Phare." Kalinka nodded. "It just took me a lifetime to realize that…a lifetime and then almost losing you." She looked to Drill Man and shook her head. "I apologize for whatever trouble I've ever caused all of you. My father is gone, but he didn't leave us alone. We have each other…and we're still a family."

"Good to know that, sis." Pharaoh Man said with a larger smile.

It was then that the comm blinked on, flashing with a signal source that hadn't been activated for a few days. Pharaoh Man's face darkened. The last time it had…

"Somebody's calling here??" Kalinka asked Pharaoh Man, puzzled. She turned to face him. "I didn't think anybody knew how to reach us here…"

"Well, a select few do." Pharaoh Man replied. "Mega Man X, Dr. Cain, but he is dead…Zero Ome…" Pharaoh Man froze, realizing his slipup. "I am sorry, I did not mean to…"

Kalinka of course had felt the familiar pang that accompanied hearing the name of the same Demon that had taken Protoman's life in 2085, that moment of sadness and anger. But it passed.

_We cannot change the past. And as much as I mourn…Nothing can bring Blues back. Nothing. _

"Forget it." Kalinka replied quietly, shutting her eyes and forcing her tears back. "The Zero that is today is not the Demon that killed Protoman. Though I still have problems accepting that, it's my problem. Not yours."

Pharaoh Man said a quiet prayer of thanks. "And then there is Hazil…the reploid from the MHHQ who came and upgraded some of us." _The question is…who's calling._

Warily, Pharaoh Man lifted a hand up and activated the receiver.

He sighed in relief as the screen blipped on.

**Vox**** only transmission. Source; MHHQ. User recognition confirmed; Hazil, reploid.**

_"Hello, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"_ Came the gruff and scratchy voice of the medical reploid over the line. Kalinka blinked a few times, then turned to Pharaoh Man.

He could see it in her eyes. That sudden flare of worry.

"It'll be all right, sis." Phare said calmly, turning back up to the screen and the embedded microphone. "Hazil, it is Pharaoh Man here. For what reason do I owe this call?"

_"Hey, I was hoping I'd reach you. Saves me the trouble of asking around. First of all, sunshine boy, I'd like to offer a big congrats to you for helping out with the destruction of Ice Beacon. Though nobody knows about it, if they did there would be a lot of grateful reploids out there right now."_

"I am touched." Pharaoh Man said drily. "But something tells me this isn't a courtesy call."

_"Right on the money as usual…Well, I'll just skip the rest of my faldoral. Pharaoh Man, we're having a little impromptu meeting here at the __MHHQ__Medical__Bay__. I assume you still remember the jump coordinates??"_

"I do." Phare said. "But just why do we require such an assembly?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Hazil thought of what to say. Finally, he replied. _"Some things don't know when to die, I suppose. We'll fill you in on the rest when we're all there. So, you coming??"_

"Do I have a choice?" Pharaoh Man asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms.

_"Hell son, of COURSE you got a choice." _Hazil clucked. _"One of the privileges of being…well, for all purposes, a reploid. God, it sounds strange calling you that."_

"I am not a reploid." Pharaoh Man corrected him.

_"Nor are you a robot. I don't think they've quite decided what's in between. But descriptors like that aren't all that important. The fact is son, you're alive when you, by all rights, shouldn't be. That's enough for me. So yes, you have a choice. Come, not come…it's up to you. I was on my way myself when I remembered I was supposed to get in touch with you."_

"Well, thanks for the 'heads up', as they say." Pharaoh Man concluded.

_"You betcha, kiddo. End of line."_

The transmission cut off abruptly, without the closing niceties. That was one thing about Hazil's transmissions Pharaoh Man liked. When he was finished talking, he just stopped. It saved time.

Pharaoh Man stepped back and shut his eyes. He could almost sense what was coming.

"You're going, aren't you." Kalinka whispered quietly, more of a statement than a question. If Pharaoh Man had a heart, a sensation he felt more every day, it felt heavy at that moment.

The Robot Master turned and looked at the woman he now called sister. Her face was ashen, her smile gone for an inward sadness, and she almost seemed to be curling up on herself.

"I don't want you to worry, Kalinka." Pharaoh Man answered back, shaking his head. "But yes, I am going."

She shut her eyes. "God…why do they need YOU?? You already stopped that Beacon thing, it's done!!"

"No…somehow, I get the impression it isn't." Pharaoh Man said, sounding rational to her continually emotional statements. "They need me because I am one of the few people they can turn to. They can't go to the Maverick Hunters…in the organization's mind, they'd all be Mavericks for what they've done. Alert the world media?? If what Willow and Bristol told us about MI9 is true, they would catch wind of the alert and shut it down cold, just because they have agents entrenched in every position of power and authority. We stopped Ice Beacon, yes…But we did not stop MI9. And somehow, I imagine that is what this meeting is about."

"I don't want to lose you, Phare…" Kalinka said, looking up. "Not now."

Pharaoh Man smiled gently at her. "You worry too much, Kalinka. If I was to be killed by this, it would have happened already. But I came back then, and I'll come back now. Besides. I've been in this Citadel for too many years, as we all have. I deserve a chance to get out."

"Yes…" Kalinka murmured, logic finally hitting home. Her expression calmed down some, and she looked into his eyes. "Promise you'll come back?"

"On my headdress collection." Pharaoh Man said with a wink. "I'll come back. That's a promise I will always keep."

He took a few steps back, shut his eyes, and warped off in a blink of light. Drill Man waited for a few moments, then walked over to Kalinka and nodded his head.

"He cares for you deeply, you know. He would never do anything to harm you."

"I know that." Kalinka replied, standing up from the chair. "It's my problem, not his. I suppose…I just haven't learned how to let go."

"He isn't leaving you."

"No." Kalinka agreed, smiling a bit. "He's just growing up." She turned and walked towards the elevator.

"Where are you going, Mistress Kalinka?" Drill Man queried.

She paused and turned about, even more composed. "Well, as long as I'm awake, I might as well make breakfast. You want to come along?"

"I suppose." Drill Man nodded, trotting after her faithfully. "I can mix the pancake batter for you, at the least."

"That you can, Drill." Kalinka said with a chuckle.

"That you can."

_9:18 A.M. Japan Standard Time_

_MHHQ, __Central__Building__, __Medical__Bay___

J.K. Horn, Allegro, Willow, Bristol and Bastion were already waiting inside of the room when Hazil walked into the door, looking a little calmer than usual. At least he wasn't scowling.

Bastion perked his head up at the medical reploid's entrance. "How's your other patient doing?" He asked softly.

"The physical wounds on Zero are all patched up, and he has his arm back." Hazil noted. "The stuff on the inside, though…well, that's beyond my reach. It'll be up to him to solve that." He walked over and relaxed into his office chair. "Now then. I managed to get a hold of our little golden boy. Who else are we missing?"

In reply, the door to the Medical Bay hissed open as Doan and Wycost strolled in. Willow finally raised her head back up and opened her eyes. Even through the nearly opaque lenses of Wycost's sunglare sunglasses, she could feel his piercing gaze. It wasn't obvious, though. She doubted anybody else in the room thought his wandering, observing eyes were pointed anywhere but ahead of him.

"I found him." Wycost grunted, wandering over and leaning back against the wall next to Willow. "Though next time, tell Cleo that frustration isn't something she needs to apply to those old machines. She just needs, pardon the expression, a man's touch."

"Rather chauvinistic of you, isn't it?" Doan queried, heading to the opposite side of the room by Horn and Allegro. Wycost shrugged and folded his arms, still wearing his black leather jacket.

"When you start labeling the vehicles you ride and referring to them as shes, I suppose it is a bit." Wycost acquiesced. "Though there's a certain amount of old chivalry in that concept."

"Old and dead, thankfully." Willow finally murmured, drawing her hands around her knees. "So where's goldenrod?"

In response to Willow's first words for a few minutes, a brilliant beam of warplight came down from above, flashing for a moment as the energy and partially phased particles coalesced. A second later, Pharaoh Man stood before them all, blinking his eyes with the small half smile he had worn upon leaving his home.

"Morning, Phare." Bristol called out, stepping from behind Bastion with a weak smile. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Well, the transmission from Hazil sounded urgent." Pharaoh Man replied calmly. He looked around the room and shook his head. "It seems the message was justified…if all of you are here." He looked back to Bristol. "Where should I sit?"

"Anywhere you want to…or stand, if you like." Bristol said. Pharaoh Man nodded and took up a position in a corner, choosing to observe. He had noticed that despite the severity of the wounds he had observed on his comrades in the closing minutes of their mission, they were all repaired…No doubt, Hazil's work. Then again, modern medical techniques were probably beyond his normal recognition. The level of repairs that the bedraggled Ice Beacon assault team had sustained would have kept Cossack slaving through at least a week's worth of late nights and sleepless days.

The room went silent as all eyes fell on Bristol and Bastion, save those of Willow, who kept her own gaze glued to the floor. Bristol remained unfazed by the stares for a change. This time, there was no nervousness in her voice.

"Thanks to the actions taken by all of us, MI9 has received heavy losses to their infrastructure." Bristol started. "The loss of Ice Beacon, and the data therewithin relating to the Universal Berserker Frequency has put a stop to any global efforts they might have been able to muster against the reploid race. Furthermore, the self-destruction of MI9 HQ will, for the time being, keep them from reorganizing any sort of retaliatory effort."

Doan and Wycost exchanged knowing glances. They remained as mute as Willow, though.

"But that doesn't mean that the danger is ended." Bristol continued, her face growing more solemn with every syllable. "MI9 exists on a scope that's even hard for me and Willow to fathom, and we were a part of it. Their agents, their eyes and ears are spread throughout every part of world government and power. Even the mass media is infected with their presence. The GDC wasn't outside of their grasp, either. Cristoph was their most prominent mole there, and thankfully he's dead."

"Even if he hadn't been MI9 stock, we would have been grateful for his demise." Doan grunted, finally adding something to the conversation. "Take a look at the news archives here on the base sometime if you're bored enough, and you'll discover that he's tried to make himself a nuisance to the reploid race in general, but especially to the Maverick Hunters ever since the Second Maverick Uprising."

"Aye, and that's good and well for all of ye." Willow murmured, refusing to look up. "But as much as I hate to admit it…Bristol's right."

"Once…Once, Willow and I ran from them, we thought that merely escaping them would be enough." Bristol continued, her eyes growing sad. "That course of action kept them running after us like fugitives; in hindsight, I suppose we were. Of anybody on Earth that knew enough about MI9, it was only Willow and I that had any abilities that stretched even close to being a threat to them. And then we wiped our minds, thinking that the Mavericks themselves were going to claim us…and the terrible secrets in our heads. We couldn't let the technologies we knew of fall into the wrong hands." She pulled her arms around herself. "It seemed that there was no escaping them. Even now, there's no escaping MI9 and its shadow."

"So they're still around, fine." Allegro surmised. "But without the UBF, without Ice Beacon…just what can they accomplish??"

Bristol looked to him, her eyes firm. "Left alone, they could spell doom for the entire reploid race. MI9 was created out of the ashes of the Second Rainbow…from the faction that did not appreciate the direction that the world was going. The concept of robots was always appalling to them…reploids even more so. We only discovered too late just what they were truly planning, what we were a part of. MI9 seeks, through blatant or hidden means, to redirect the course of the world towards an era where reploids and robots are done away with, are seen as terrors that must be done away with. Had Ice Beacon succeeded, that goal would have been only two years away. Thanks to all of you, we've bought ourselves time. But how much time…" She shook her head. "That I don't know."

"I don't like where this is going." Wycost muttered under his breath. He got a few glances from the others, but because he had said it so softly, nobody knew what he had said.

"That's why I had Bastion call you all here." Bristol explained. "Because we're at a crossroads now, and I had to ask you all…if you would be willing to walk with me a little farther."

"Och." Willow cursed, shaking her head. "Somehow, I'd knew that ye'd bring that up."

"Together, we stopped Ice Beacon and saved the world from slipping into madness." Bristol concluded, looking around the room. "I ask you all today…would you go on with me, would you continue what we've started? Separately, we could never hope to stop MI9 from accomplishing its goals. But together…we might just stand a chance. Nobody else can do this. We're the only ones who know. And the only ones who can act."

Nobody said anything for a while. In fact, they all seemed to turn away from one another as they slipped into their own private thoughts.

It was Bastion who broke the silence, setting a firm hand on Bristol's shoulder.

"I know that this is a big decision for all of us. So take the rest of today to think on it. We'll meet up again at 0930 Hours, MHHQ time. We can discuss what we are to do then."

The small group inside of the Medical Bay got up and looked around. Some walked out the door. Others warped.

Only Bristol, Bastion and Hazil stayed. The first two of choice, the third by a sense of duty to his resigned post.

"I hope what I'm doing is right." Bristol said quietly, drawing her arms around herself tighter.

Bastion lifted her chin up with a hand and smiled at her. "I never once lost faith that you ever did anything else. Now come on…there are still a few other things to be done before tomorrow."

Hazil looked at them with an odd half smile as they walked out the door and into the rest of the MHHQ. He relaxed into his chair and pulled up his computer's Solitaire program, falling into the soothing pattern of falling cards.

"People." He muttered, double clicking on the ace of spades.

J.K. Horn walked out of the room with Allegro following him like a bloodhound. Of course, Horn no longer worried about his pupil's trailing habits. Still, after hearing what Bristol had to say, he found himself at a confused state. At least Bastion had had the good sense to give them time to ponder her plea. Begrudgingly, Horn admitted that the more he hung around the desert armored reploid, the less he feared him and despised him. Mild annoyance from time to time, but it had evolved into a general gratitude that he was on the fellow's side for a change.

"What Bristol said in there…is she right?" Allegro asked his mentor.

Horn didn't bother to stop his walk. But he did nod his head. "Yeah. You know what they're capable of, same as me. And you've fought them."

"You fought them as well, back on your island."

"Badly." Horn chuckled, slowing down so his pupil could walk beside him. "No, combat was never my strong suit. I've always been an engineer first and foremost, Allegro. And if I can impart some of that tinkering ability to you before I pass on, then I may yet be forgiven for my life's transgressions."

"Geez, stop talking like you're ancient." Allegro chastised Horn. "Sure, you may be a reploid from the early years, but you're hardly outdated.

"I didn't say that." Horn exclaimed, feigning mortification. "Frankly Allegro, you're only as old as you feel. And if I feel old, that's just the way it is. Besides, I enjoy getting senior citizen's discounts." He walked on a bit farther, then spoke up again, calmer. "So tell me. What's your plan after this??"

"You mean, am I gonna stick around and help Bristol save the world??" Allegro replied, looking to Horn. "It's a little early to be deciding that yet, isn't it?" He turned back to looking ahead of him. "What about you, Horn? Does this fit into your agenda??"

"My agenda??" Horn mused, rubbing at his chin. "Hell…Ever since URFAWP went belly up, I haven't had one." He sighed. "Frankly Allegro, right now I don't have an answer to give you. I don't think any of us do. That's why Bastion gave us this time here…time enough to think about it."

"Yeah." Allegro muttered. He slowed his pace down and ran a hand through his hair. "God knows this wasn't where I thought I'd be. Three months ago, this was the farthest possibility Andante and I had in mind."

"Andante." Horn murmured, slowing down as well and acting like the old man he always said he was. "Losing him tore you apart. You were a mess when I finally approached you that night. I did what I could to get you going again, but…"

"Yeah." Allegro replied softly. "I appreciate what you did for me. You gave me a reason to stay active when I'd lost my brother, and you even took care of me. But I don't know if I can commit to something this big. Hell, how can YOU commit to something this big??"

Allegro turned and looked at Horn. "Don't you understand what we'd be doing…what we would have to do in order to continue this?"

"I understand completely the risks and the drawbacks." Horn chuffed. "That's not the question."

"Then what is, praytell??" Allegro spat back, becoming flustered.

"The question, my pupil, has already been asked by you, in so many words." Horn answered back, a half smile on his face. "Can we really make the necessary sacrifices…and in the end, would this new pursuit be any more just than what we were doing before this mess landed in our laps?"

The creator of the defunct URFAWP organization shrugged his shoulders and started walking again. "Here and now, the course of our lives is being decided. But nobody can tell you what path you will walk, save yourself. Allegro, all I want is for you to do what is right in your heart. After everything that's happened, you may be prone to making another rash decision. Trust in the personality that your brother tried to share with you, and think it out."

"I assume you're going to do the same??" Allegro surmised as he watched Horn waddle on.

"We all are." Horn replied, sinking into the bustling masses inside of the MHHQ.

"We all are."

_11:45 A.M. Japan Standard Time_

_MHHQ, New __Tokyo__Japan___

_Medical__Bay_

Hazil was busy boxing up the rest of his memorabilia when Medical Bay door chimed its familiar two tone warble. Hazil made a quick check of his internal chronometer and smiled briefly. "Right on time, as usual." He put the last of his private journals into the box and sealed it shut with some tape. "Enter!!" He hollered towards the door before rising from his knees.

A somewhat moody looking Mega Man X strolled into his office, his blue green eyes tired. "Hey, doc."

"Punctual as ever." Hazil harrumphed, picking up a medical scanner and turning the device on. "Have there been any complications since Signas's little counterstrike?"

"Nothing that'll show up on that." X replied, slipping a hand into his jeans pocket.

"Aah, yes." Hazil sighed. "It figures…a plight of the spirit, not of the body. I was always better at the second, son." He pulled the device back and clucked his tongue. "Do me a favor and access your ever famous blue combat gear, would you?"

X obliged him, activating his internal warp generator and switching his off duty street clothing for his usual blue armor. It had its fair share of dings and dents from all the abuse X put it through, but was well maintained. Hazil gave it a thorough scan and harrumphed at the results that appeared on the handheld device's screen.

"Yeah, about what I expected. Some day X, you're gonna want to take that into one of the repair shops we have here and get some cosmetic work done on that."

"Stuff that." X muttered. "I didn't become a Hunter to look pretty for parades, and you know that."

"Yes, I know." Hazil replied easily. "You became a Hunter because your world shattered around you, and you snapped." He pulled the scanner back and shook his head. "So…do you think dear old dad left you any more presents out there?"

"You mean, other armor sets?" X queried, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Hazil nodded. "With your first three sets nothing but degraded data, and your fourth set in stasis for later repair, you think he'd give you an edge to help you out."

"It doesn't work like that." X sighed, walking over and plopping on a medical cot. "Up until now, I always found my armors when I desperately needed them, when the situation got so out of hand that the odds seemed impassable."

"And this recent mess wasn't?"

"Not enough." X shook his head. "It was bad, and we're still dealing with the aftermath…but in the end, I defeated Kazok on that field using only the merits given to me."

"Yeah, sure." Hazil lifted an eyebrow. "I ran a scan of when you got back from that mission, too. You overcharged your Buster and disengaged the safeties. That capability shouldn't even exist without the X-Buster upgrades you usually get."

"Well, it won't for a while." X chuckled bitterly. "Somehow, that little stunt blew out the memory banks on my Variable Weapons Grid. I lost all my special weapons doing that as well."

"Which means you're back at square one." Hazil confirmed. "You know, you could just head over to the archives and use your rank to download some older special weapons data…"

"No." X interrupted Hazil. He looked up at Hazil. "No, I won't do that."

Hazil stared at him blankly for a moment, then cast his head down. "Yeah. I should have known. You haven't done that in the thirteen years we've been here, so why start now…" He looked back up to X and shrugged his shoulders. "But why not? Those weapons that you earned from the Uprisings of the past have all been useful at some point or another. And then you just go and download the data into our mainframe so every yuppie Hunter and greenhorn can go customization crazy, while you go out there and rough it as you build up a new arsenal. Why do you deprive yourself of that edge?"

"A few reasons." X replied calmly. "No matter how I look at them, no matter how useful those special weapons are, there's always an air of death around them. I gained them through causing the death of others. I use them at the time because they're a necessary evil. But eventually, Hazil, I put them away and I don't look back. I don't want to remember myself as a murderer who uses their abilities for his own ends."

"Christ, X." Hazil muttered, narrowing his eyes. "That pacifistic side is gonna get you killed one of these days."

"Hasn't yet." X retorted. "Another reason why I don't go carrying around old special weapons is because if I rely too much on them, I lose what little extra skill I have with what my dad gave me." He reached down and tapped his left arm. "The Mark 17…To my knowledge and research, the farthest that dad ever got with variants for my older brother and namesake was the Mark 6…maybe Mark 7. The data gets real sketchy from 2082 and onwards." He looked up at Hazil again. "That means that my father went back to the drawing board 10 to 11 times before he finally felt confident enough to give me my own weapon."

"That poses another question, though." Hazil responded, lifting a finger. "If your father wanted you to live in peace…why would he permanently graft a high powered plasma launcher into both of your arms?"

X thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Well, aside from the half joking response I could give that he gave it to me so I could fight off the paparazzi, there's only one answer."

"Yeah, I kinda have a feeling I know what that one is." Hazil murmured. "But you won't hear me say it."

X smiled. "Thanks, doc. Your discretion's commendable." His smile faded. "I'm sure gonna miss it."

Hazil rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't you get weepy on me too now…"

"Just why are ya quitting, anyway? You're tired of it all, you want to run and escape from it??"

"Essentially."

"Yeah, great excuse." X retorted. "If the world accepted pat answers like that, I would have resigned my commission after the First Maverick Uprising and hid in a library for the rest of my days."

Hazil sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, you had to be more difficult." He put his medical scanner away and tottered back to his desk, collapsing into his chair. He folded his hands, pursing his lips for a moment before finally speaking. "X, you and I both don't like how we got here. Neither of us enjoy what we do. In a sense, we deal with death nearly every day." Hazil looked over to X. "But we deal with different aspects."

"Do tell." X shot back testily.

"Consider what I do; my role, as it stands, is Chief Medical Officer of the entire Maverick Hunter Headquarters. After all the battles, skirmishes, and duels that you and the rest of the motley vigilante peacekeepers in this outfit attend to, it's ME that ends up patching all your wounds when you get back. Sure, for larger operations we have the field medics, and there's the nurses and basic level medical technicians on call…but for anything big, anything that is pure life and death and deep surgery…well, that's when they pull me out of mothballs. I walk into an operating room when the odds are stacked against me, usually. I stare Death in the face every day, X. Whether I'm operating on Hunters or not, that shrouded figure is grinning at me, bleached bones and all. I put on my gloves and open my patient up, praying all the while to whatever God in heaven exists that today, _if only today,_ I might have the skills, the timing, and the sheer luck to pull their battered body back together and coax their spirits to stay nestled in their control chip. But some days I lose, X. Some days I don't have the grace of the afterlife smiling on my hands. Some days…I lose them."

Hazil leaned back in his chair. "The first person I ever saw die underneath me was Bolt Eagle. His death triggered my retirement from the British Royal Air Force and my transfer to here, along with Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill. And over the years, I saw a lot more people die while I tried to save them." He shut his eyes. "The last one…the last straw…That was Cain."

X sat mutely, casting his eyes downward.

"Yeah, Cain." Hazil continued. "To you and Zero, he was the father you both never had, a guy who gave a damn about the race he'd helped to create, and who he felt responsible for. Together, we shared the woes of the world and drowned our sorrows in bottles and bottles of suds. To me, he was a mentor and a patient both. But near the end, X…he was my patient. Just like you all are."

Hazil reached across his desk and dragged over an old photograph, kept under glass but still showing its age. "It always happens. No matter how much crap happens, there's always a point where I pull back, where I see the people I know as patients, not as friends. And then they die. And when they die because I wasn't able to save them…" Hazil shut his eyes and shook his head. "I'm tired of it, X. I'm tired of losing to death, and I'm tired of the exercise in futility. There's an old episode of a TV show called MASH, where Doctor Hawkeye Pierce sums it up all too easily; Wars have more power to take life than we have to restore it." He shook his head. "Something else, X. Just before Cain died…he told me something._ Don't base your decisions on your loyalties. You're your own person. Live without that stupid compulsion to stick around here just because you always have._ Well, I listened to that. And he was right."

Calmly, Hazil took another look of the photograph of him standing next to Bolt Eagle and Storm Eagle. "Wars have more power to take life than I have to preserve it…Far more power." Without another word, he opened up his oversized chest compartment and placed the memoir inside.

He stood back up and walked towards X. "You and I see different sides of the coin. I lose to death, and a person who should be alive slips through my fingers. You see yourself as a murderer, as a coldblooded killer who blows away everything in sight with the gun on his arm. You abhor the fact that you're good at it. You think to the deepest recesses of your mind, you do this only because you have to, and the moment that all the insanity of Sigma and the Maverick Uprisings is in the past, you'll go back to a normal life. But there's your problem. X, I suffer because I can't save lives when I need to. You…you still don't grasp that what you do is valuable, is needed. Yes, you are causing the deaths of reploids when you go out and take up arms. But there's the thing; it's needed. If you didn't do what you do, then the Mavericks would run about and kill innocents. You want to preserve life, and I understand that. That's what I tried to do for so long. But you can actually succeed at it. The deaths of the few rotten apples has preserved the barrel for more than a decade. Different sides of the coin, X. The people you kill aren't innocent, and they would take more life than you ever could."

"Yeah." X muttered. "That applies to Sigma, and the ultimate diehards." He gave Hazil a pained look. "But what about the others…what about the Mavericks that are there, solely because of Sigma's grasp? What about the Mavericks who didn't ask to be there, who, if they had full control of their faculties, WOULDN'T??" Forlornly, he formed a Buster and stared at it. "Two days ago, Hazil, I faced off against a Maverick General named Kazok Gravor. And it was only as I left him dying that the truth of it hit me. He hadn't wanted to be there, and he wanted Sigma dead as much as I did. He was a Maverick who had fought against the Virus and won, and who walked under his own control. And even when he fought me, he did it only…only to determine who was stronger…who would have the honor of fighting Sigma."

"And he lost." Hazil muttered. He sighed again. "X, that's happened before, by your own reports. Remember Overdrive Ostrich in the Second Uprising?? You left him there to die then as well…and he was just as sad. He wanted to die. The lab results have shown that after a certain amount of critical damage, the Virus loosens its hold on a victim due to its self-preservation protocols. For that moment before they pass on, they think clearly and see their actions for what they were. And the common consensus among the turned…was that they had to be taken out."

Hazil put an arm on X's shoulder. "It's no different. If I were to go Maverick, if anybody here was to…somewhere inside of us, we'd be crying to you to kill us. To take us out before innocents would suffer the price. Kazok had to feel the same after a while. It's the shame, X. The shame."

_If…If I become one of the Mavericks…you have to take care of me._

X shook his head, his eyes beginning to mist over. "But why…why is it that my shoulders have to carry the burden for everyone?"

"The burden??" Hazil replied, nonplussed. "It isn't a burden, X. That's just what you think it is. Some days, your empathy gets in the way. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The world needs you, X. And whatever guilt you feel for what you do, that's not real. And one day, I hope and pray you will realize that."

Hazil pulled back and trotted over to his desk. "You're in perfect physical health for a guy your age. There's little more I can do for you…little else I can do for anybody here, X. I must be an old legend, because I'm not dying, I just plan to fade away." Hazil smirked and stared at his patient. "And I'm going to tell you something else, X. If you listen to anything I'm telling you, listen to this; What you do, who you are…people respect and look up to you. I find it hard to accept myself, but because of everything that's happened, the world now looks to you as a symbol, as a beacon of hope. The rest of the Maverick Hunters serve a role, but it's your face that the world knows. You and Zero are the core of this place, and without you two, it will cease to function. Cain?? Cain was a great guy and he kept our butts out of the fire, but it was your presence that made the Hunters what it is. Don't turn your back on this place, and don't place the weight of the world on your shoulders. Just do your job and stay close to your friends, and look for the things in life that make you smile. Don't do what I did; hide away and be a wino."

"Yeah." X shrugged after a few moments. He transformed back into his civilian clothing and hopped off the medical cot. "Good advice…that was something you always seemed to be able to give." He looked up. "Will…will whoever takes your place be just as good?"

"Of that I cannot provide an answer." Hazil mused. "According to what I've seen, you can expect him to do his job. As for anything else, like the bedside manner you've come to expect from me…well, there I'm clueless. But when we first saw Signas, we didn't see much promise in him either." The medical reploid meandered towards the exit and entry doorway. "Time, it seems, allows for plenty of growth…given the right soil. Just be optimistic, and don't ever look back. Show him the ropes and give him some room. He'll learn sooner or later."

"Yeah." X chuckled. "I suppose…that we have some time. Somehow, this time around I feel like Sigma's going to be quiet for longer than usual, thanks to Ze…" He froze midsentence, and his smile vanished.

Hazil blinked twice in recognition. "You can't avoid him forever, you know. And Lord knows that he's the last person you need to ignore right now."

X said nothing in reply, mutely wandering towards the door. "I guess I'd better get going then."

"Not quite yet." Hazil barked, folding his arms. "There's something I was planning on giving you before I left…and I suppose now is as good a time as any, because I don't know when I'll see you next."

"What was that??" X asked, looking up from the ground.

Before X could protest, Hazil wrapped his gangly arms around him and gave him a hug that could crush humans. The medical reploid held it for a few moments before releasing X, a knowing look on his face.

"Zero's the person that'll see you through thick and thin, X. He's been your friend ever since the First Maverick Uprising, and the one person you could always rely on without doubt, without fail. That hasn't changed one damn bit, X. Zero has his problems, but if he's strong, he can overcome them. But he needs you to do that, X. He needs his friend. The both of you rely on each other, and the moment you realize that, you'll be far better off."

X looked at Hazil for a long moment, a lone tear rolling out of the corner of his eye. "I'm going to miss you, Hazil."

"Yeah, I know." Hazil replied quietly. "But you're not alone. Not now, and never again. You just have to realize that where you should have been looking was under your nose all along."

X gave Hazil one final nod, then walked out of the hissing hydraulic door.

It shut with a finality Hazil had rarely felt before. A certain sadness, almost.

The medical reploid exhaled a long sigh before walking back to his desk and picking up the last of his pictures;

A photo of Cain, standing almost regally with Spark Mandrill and Storm Eagle and the rest of the members of the defunct 1st Unit, Sigma included.

"Times change, Cain." Hazil whispered to the photo. "I just hope that X realizes that some things don't have to change with them."

He gave the picture one final glance, then put it into another box along with his other photos.

Boxes of memories.

_12:57 P.M. Japan Standard Time_

_MHHQ, Cafeteria_

Numbly, Gavin sat at the table, poking at his food for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Beside him, Jad and Kol sat also, pondering their comrades' strange state of mind. Jad nervously flexed the hand of his new arm, his old one having been severed. Strangely enough, Kol was hard pressed to tell the difference between them.

Finally, Jad slammed his arm down. "Damnit Gav, stop moping already." The sudden vibration shook Gavin out of his trance for a brief moment, causing the Maverick Hunter to fumble his fork and send a pea rolling across the table. He looked over at Jad, who looked as impatient and annoyed as ever.

"What do you want from me?" Gavin finally mumbled. Kol, the less irritable of the lesser two rolled his eyes at that.

"For one, you can stop moping."

"I would think I have reason to." Gavin answered back. "Bastion's resigning."

"La-dee friggin da." Jad snorted. "So we're losing our Commander. Don't forget that we've also lost half our unit…or do they just not count as much as our high lord and ruler?"

Gavin's eyes flared. "You know as well as I do that every person in the 21st Unit is valued, Jad. We came in with most of those guys. Some of them helped to train US, even. I know perfectly well how much of a loss we've taken, but I've accepted that. It goes with the job, and everyone who was in the Lightning Strike Unit knew that when they took the position."

"Oh, of course." Jad barked callously. "You can be all stoic and unfeeling when it comes to the people that you bleed next to, but the moment that Bastion starts wavering in his position here, you go haywire."

Gavin stood up, his face already beginning to grimace and twist in a motion of rage. "Watch your tongue, Jad."

Jad stood up and stared at Gavin without blinking, holding the same infuriated mask. "You just try me."

Kol's eyes widened, and he had almost begun to stand up to stop them when a not so distant voice did it for him.

"STAND DOWN, you two." The sudden echo stunned both Gavin and Jad, who turned towards the sound of the voice.

Standing there and watching them both with his arms crossed and a frown, Bastion looked more than a little infuriated.

"I would expect better from the three of you by now." Bastion murmured, seemingly sickened by their attitudes. Kol looked down at his food in shame, and Jad stared up at Bastion with a glare of defiance. Gavin somehow looked hurt, about the only emotion he did show with relative ease. After some measure of pause, Bastion sighed and walked over to their table. "I was actually looking for all of you."

"What, to gloat?" Jad retorted acidulously. Bastion's eyes flickered for a brief moment before he shook his head in reply.

"Sit down, and then I'll talk." The Desert Angel said, sitting down himself. Gavin sat down also, and after a few uncomfortable seconds, so did Jad. Kol began to calmly eat his food, slowly, but still eating it.

Gavin waited patiently, not sure whether to ask a question or not. Jad preferred to simply glare at Bastion and wait for his former commander to explain himself.

Bastion looked a little older than he had before, Gavin thought. Almost as if life had caused him to gray a little. Nervously, Bastion thrummed his fingers together before sighing.

"So, I take it you all are really shocked that I've resigned." Bastion stated matter-of-factly. Nobody said anything for a moment, so Bastion continued. "If I didn't resign, chances were that they would have forced me out anyways. I wasn't here for the key mission which ended in our victory, and that is technically desertion."

"So you are a traitor." Jad said accusingly.

Bastion's hand whipped across the table and grabbed Jad by his throat, pulling him halfway back before the Hunter could muster a yelp. Jad's widened and surprised eyes stared deep into Bastion's, which were now sparking with contained anger.

"Two things, Jad. One, we don't belong to any particular nation, we're just fighters for peace against murderous forces. And TWO, don't you ever DARE to think that I would ever leave this place out of spite. You three came into my unit, not knowing what to expect and with virtually no combat skills. It was my sweat, my blood and energies that I poured into making you what you are. I've worked for this place for more than a year now; you've all been here for less than a quarter of that time. I KNOW what it means to be a Maverick Hunter, and I know that what we do is vital. Hell, if I didn't think it was, would I have ever bothered trying to keep you all alive, much less sign up in the FIRST PLACE?!"

Bastion shoved Jad back into his seat and pulled his hand back, flexing it for a moment before sighing again. "I thought I had trained you better than this…I see now there was a flaw."

"Half of the Unit is dead, Bastion." Kol mumbled, finally adding to the conversation. He looked up from his plate. "That isn't a flaw, that's a friggin' gash."

Bastion nodded gravely. "Sometimes, no matter how well prepared a Unit is…things will still happen. Remember the 17th Unit in Sigma's Sixth? They were hammered in D.C, and only X, and Doan, who was in Cairo at the time, lived to carry on the legacy of their forces. I don't deny that the 21st Unit isn't without its injuries. At the same time, it could have been worse."

"So why are you leaving, then?" Gavin asked, blinking his eyes.

The three members of the 21st Unit found themselves staring at a downcast and slightly ashen shroud of their former leader.

Wearily, Bastion shook his head. "I can't go into too much detail…suffice it to say that there will always be Maverick Hunters, but for right now, there's something else this world needs as well." He brought his head back up and stared at them all, trying to gauge a response. "Somehow, I've been drafted into it."

"Like we're supposed to believe something like that." Jad said, his voice deflated at last.

Bastion gave him a look, the fire in his eyes burned out and left with weary ice. "There was a time that you looked up to me, you know. A time when you would have defended me against anybody who would have cross words. Have you really fallen away from me that far?"

They all said nothing, not looking towards him. Bastion also remained motionless. "You're mad. I can understand that. But just remember, no matter how you all feel about me, I'm still leaving. There's little that can change that now."

Jad exhaled, then shook his head. "I don't despise you. Hell, I'm just spouting off again." He looked up at Bastion with saddened eyes. "You weren't there at a time when we needed you. It's just been hard to forget…for some other members of our Unit, it's been hard to not wish you a very painful death."

"But do you believe me?" Bastion prodded. "I understand that there are some naysayers in the 21st; there always have been, no matter how high our efficiency. Do you believe me, though…When I say that I had to do what I did? That even now, what I'm doing is for something important?"

Slowly, the trio looked up into Bastion's eyes.

Every single one of them nodded in complete honesty and agreement. And Jad spoke up. "I'm just angry, boss. I'm sorry that target was you, but…yeah. I trust you." He punched Kol in the arm. "So does this chipper fella."

Kol rubbed his sore limb and glowered at Jad a bit. "You taught us a lot of things, Bastion. But there was one thing you said above all; believe in what you're fighting for. Reluctant soldiers just get themselves and their teammates killed. And if there's something else that would prevent you from being here and doing your best…go take care of it."

He grabbed Jad by the shoulder and stood up, dragging his yelping teammate with him. "I don't know if we'll see you around…but no matter what Bastion, I thank you. You did a lot for us, and for this place, and we're not going to forget that anytime soon." He gave Bastion one final smile, and then hauled Jad and himself out of the cafeteria.

Quietly, Gavin returned to poking at his food, knowing somewhere in his mind that those two had set this up to give Bastion a solo shot at him. He'd have to thank them later somehow.

Bastion folded his hands together. "I read the combat reports…you did a good job out there, Gavin."

"Not good enough." Gavin replied quickly.

"Hell, I wouldn't want to walk into those odds." Bastion said with an easygoing smile. "I'm glad to see that the 21st Unit still has a capable Commander."

"Bastion, I'm only the second in…" Gavin began easily, before stopping midsentence. He looked up at Bastion, lifting one eyebrow. "You're not serious."

Bastion simply nodded.

"You're crazy!" Gavin sputtered, waving his hand in the air. "Hell, I've been on the job for, what, two months?!"

"I can assure you that I was a Maverick Hunter for far less of a time than you are now when X recommended my promotion to the Commander of this Unit." Bastion answered back. "He saw in me the same thing I see in you now; all the spirit, drive, and charisma to be a natural leader, and a heavy enough dose of combat experience to see you through. And to make matters even more in your favor, you're one of the few veterans that the others trust. Even Jad and Kol, the two guys that came in with you look up to you for support and guidance now." He shrugged his shoulders. "So why should your promotion be such a surprise?"

"It just seems kind of sudden, that's all." Gavin said, exhaling his disbelief. "Everything's just so…screwed up."

Bastion's eyes dulled out for a moment as his mind began to wander, and finally he spoke. "Time doesn't tick the same here as it does other places in the world, Gav. Some days it seems to drag on, so painfully slow you'd do anything to make the drudgery end, fight any Maverick. Other days, it all seems to rush by you in a blur, just a solid constant of phased existence. You have to learn to deal with that. But things aren't screwed up. They're changing…but they're not screwed up."

Gavin mulled over Bastion's words for a few moments. "You think I'm ready for this?"

Bastion's calm smile only enhanced his placid words. "Yes. And I don't see anybody complaining enough to prevent it from going through. Not even Signas, who, last time I checked, was finally starting to shape up."

"You're not going to leave me with him." Gavin said in mock horror, beginning to crack a smile.

Bastion chuckled. "Give the guy a little more credit. He's making an attempt, and besides…a little bit of Cain seems to have rubbed off on him."

"You're not worried?" Gavin asked, letting a little of his worry return. "You're leaving, Cain is dead, and Hazil's retiring, and you're not worried?"

"No, I'm not." Bastion said, just as quietly. "Maybe you haven't figured it out yet…but there's a spirit in this place, a consensus that always remains. It doesn't matter who comes or goes, because this place always stays. As long as there's an MHHQ, there will be Maverick Hunters. And as long as there are Maverick Hunters, this world's still going to turn out all right."

Bastion rubbed at his chin for a moment before he reached behind his head with a hand, pulling it back a moment later and setting an object down on the table. "This belongs to you now, Gav."

Gavin stared blankly at the two chromed cylinders sitting in front of him. "Bastion, that's your…"

"My beam saber, yes." Bastion said, smiling again. "My purple one. At least now, you'll have a set."

"Aren't you going to need it?" Gavin asked, still stupefied. Bastion shook his head and pulled out his other beam saber, lofting the chromed cylinder in his hand for a moment.

"My blue saber is the one I still need to keep…it was a gift from a very special lady. But my purple one belongs to the Hunters, and to the person who would lead this Unit. And that, Gavin, is you. You're afraid, and I understand that. But give it time, and you'll eventually realize that you're doing all the right things. My faith is not something won lightly…but it's yours." Bastion slipped his remaining beam saber back into its recharging sheath, then stood up.

Gavin stood up after him. "So when are you leaving, then?"

"Soon." Bastion replied. "As soon as I take care of a silent promise I made to someone." He turned and began to walk away, and Gavin smiled after him for a moment before reaching down and picking up his inherited weapon. It felt cold in his hand, and yet, still carried an inner warmth that existed beyond the metal. Gavin gripped it tightly, feeling his arm respond with lightning ease to its grip.

Bastion paused when he was ten feet away from Gavin, then turned and stared back at him. "Oh, there is one other thing, Commander…"

Gavin perked his head up, feeling a surge of confidence race through him as he heard that distinction being used for his name. He looked at Bastion, his eyes alight with purpose. "Yes?"

"There is one last favor I'd ask of you…"

"Name it." Gavin replied, smiling.

Bastion told him.

Gavin smiled only wider after that.

_3:45 P.M. Japan Standard Time_

_Downtown New __Tokyo__, District 17_

_Inafune__ Shrine_

Willow didn't know how exactly she had ended up in New Tokyo…despite her reclusive nature, she had chosen to wander towards it. To some degree, perhaps she had wanted to. What had surprised her the most was the unusually accepting attitude that the people here had demonstrated just as she walked by. No stares, no jeering comments, and no disrespect.

For someone who had spent the entirety of their life having to face such ridicule and dislike, the tolerance felt in New Tokyo was wholly new, pleasing…and yet somehow, mistrusted.

Willow also had shifted into street clothes, a conservative ensemble that still marked her fiery individuality. A light periwinkle blue blouse that let her breathe comfortably with a brown synthesized leather vest over it, accompanied by a dark blue skirt that fell to her ankles, simple and unfrilled, yet somehow elegant. Then again, maybe it was just the way that Willow carried herself, erect, undaunted by anything. She never slouched and never once offered any indication except dominance and a bemused contempt for the world around her.

Maybe it was just how this chunk of society functioned also, she thought calmly to herself. She looked over to a well, where a female reploid and a male human stood together. They were the only other people in the shrine, aside from herself.

Despite herself, she raised an eyebrow when she noticed how the human's hand was wrapped suggestively around the waist of the female reploid. The two looked at each other with a simple, reassuring smile of their bond, then the reploid turned and threw a coin into the well's depths.

The female reploid closed her eyes for a moment, as if in prayer, then opened them and smiled at her counterpart. The male human said nothing in reply, but simply smiled a little wider and motioned for them to depart. The two walked off, the human's hand slowly dropping from her waist and settling in her own hand. In silent reply, she squeezed it as they left the shrine and walked down the steps.

Willow looked on them with cold eyes, eyes they did not see as they walked past. Nor did they hear her utter underneath her breath, "Fools."

From behind her, Willow heard the rustling of what sounded like straw. Puzzled, she turned and looked on as an elderly woman in formal robes calmly swept the Treeborg wood floor of the shrine, using an old looking straw broom. Her interest piqued, she turned back about and prepared to leave.

"You know, you should not be so quick to judge others for their choices." Came a frail, but relaxed Japanese voice. Willow frowned and turned back to face the old woman, who looked up from her work for only a fraction of a second before returning to it.

"They don't know what they're walking into. That relationship, it'll never work." Willow argued, speaking in the woman's native tongue.

"Speaking from experience, are we??" The old woman mused slyly. She pushed the last bit of dust off of the deck and onto the grass, then set the broom aside and brushed her graying black hair back. "Well, let me get a good look at you." From somewhere within the folds of her red and white robe, she pulled a set of thin wire frame spectacles up and set them on her nose. She squinted through the lenses as she sized up Willow, nodding as she did. "Yes…hmm…"

"What?" Willow queried, unsure of what the woman was doing. After a few moments, the woman put her spectacles away, shaking her head.

"Well, you obviously don't need my help…you, of all women, should have no problems."

"Pardon??" Willow asked again, lifting an eyebrow.

The woman stared blankly at her for a few moments before responding. "Well, this is a love shrine, after all, so I assumed…"

"Oh. Oh no." Willow corrected her quickly, shaking her head even as her face reddened. "I didn't even know about that, I swear…"

"Hm." The woman sighed, seeming almost disappointed. "Well, what were you doing here then?"

Willow shrugged her shoulders, looking around the area. Despite its location, the shrine was well adorned in cybernetically supported vegetation, and even a rare unmechanized rose bush as well. "Sightseeing, I suppose…somehow, I just found my way here."

"I hear that sometimes." The woman smiled. "I suppose that's why the shrine is still around. Atmosphere attracts, you know."

"Yes." Willow acquiesced, her eyes shifting to the side as she began to think of a way of escape. Somehow, the woman noticed it.

"Do you have someplace you need to be, dear?" Came her calm and cheerful voice. Willow inwardly winced at the sharp senses that the woman possessed.

"No. Not really…not for a while." Willow shrugged in defeat.

The woman smiled and crooked her finger at Willow, motioning for the reploid to follow her. "Well, I was just about to make some tea. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like."

"I appreciate the offer, but…"

"I sense that you feel clouded on certain matters." The woman interjected. She folded her arms primly. "Far be it from me to force it upon you, but tea has always relaxed my body enough that the mind could sort through things."

The last of Willow's arguments evaporated. "Yeah…I'll join you."

The woman smiled. "Good. As luck would have it, I prepared enough for two."

The interior of the shrine was obviously a place not meant for public viewing or visitation. It lacked any finery, claiming only simple elegance as its signs of human presence.

Willow gently ventured inside, then paused on the doormat. The elderly woman stopped and turned, then Willow shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't really remove my…" Willow nervously fidgeted her large double air-dash capable metallic boots for emphasis.

The woman smiled gently and shook her head. "Oh, that's all right. That rule only applies to people who can help it. Just go and have a seat, I'll bring the tea over to you."

The woman walked over to the kitchenette and pulled a whistling teakettle off of the electric range, calmly going through the motions of steeping her tea with practiced ease. Willow looked around again, taking a second glance at the simple décor. She averted her gaze back to the table in time to see the old woman set a cup of tea in front of her.

"Thank you." Willow said, accepting the drink.

"Eh, don't mention it." The old woman replied with a twinkle in her eye. She picked up her cup and took a quiet sip from it, letting the wispy tendrils of steam waft by her nose more than drinking it.

"This place…it can't be that old." Willow added, finally drinking a little herself. Green tea, all right.

"Well, you're right. It isn't." The old woman replied. "Many of the shrines and temples in Japan were lost during 2087…when Mount Fuji erupted and claimed Old Tokyo. Some new ones were built to make up for their loss…this one, the Inafune Shrine is one of those temples that exists because of the rebuilding that followed that tragedy."

"So, what is it you do exactly?"

"What, me?" The woman mused. "Well, I suppose you could call me the shrinekeeper. I'm too old to be a shrine maiden." She smiled at that last line. "Essentially, I just keep the place cleaned up and running."

"Family tradition?"

"Sort of…" The woman concluded. "My husband's family. Everyone aside from him and I died in 2087 and 2090 from the tragedies that occurred in those years. He died ten years ago himself...I do this to keep his memory alive."

Willow's eyes dimmed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No, no…it's all right." The woman smiled. "He died happily. There's nothing to feel sad about these days. But I appreciate your sympathy."

Willow nodded and drained a little more of her tea, savoring the mild flavor.

"So what about you?" The woman queried, turning the conversation about. "Just what is it that causes you to wander so into a shrine without needing assistance or prayers?"

Willow shook her head. "I don't know exactly. I suppose I just started walking…and this place caught my eye."

The woman gave Willow another examining glance. "From the look of you…I'd have to guess that you're a Maverick Hunter."

"No." Willow smiled. "I did come from there, though. Why would you guess that?"

"How you hold yourself." The woman stated keenly. "Even with doubt and bewilderment filling your features, you still maintain an outwardly dominant posture. That kind of stance is not one I see in people that much anymore…but it is a trait that people who have taken up arms and fought seem to share. That's why I guessed."

"A pretty good guess, even if it was wrong." Willow replied consolingly. "This tea is excellent, by the way."

"Give it thirty years, and you can learn to make anything well." The woman replied. She stared over the rim of her cup at Willow, pursing her lips before continuing. "But I am right…aren't I?? Even if you are not a Maverick Hunter, you are a warrior."

"Not by choice." Willow protested quietly.

"It's rarely a choice to fight." The woman nodded. "Those who do choose without provocation…those are the ones that worry me."

The next look she gave Willow was one that the reploid found to be piercing and unnerving…as if by that simple glance the woman could glean information from the void.

"You feel unsettled, little one…Things have changed in your life, haven't they?"

"Yes." Willow replied. She looked at the old woman, slightly annoyed. "But I don't need anybody to tell me my choices."

"Of course you don't."

"I mean, I know my choices."

"Certainly you do."

"Bristol's alive. The reploid race is safe. Jowers is dead. That should be it, right?"

"You tell me." The woman responded easily, with that same knowing look. It was softer now, though, and not as accusing. "You know in your heart that there is doubt."

Willow looked at her for several moments before letting her eyes drift down to her teacup. "Yes, there's doubt. A long time ago…a friend of mine named Bristol escaped a death sentence with me. We ran and ran for endless months…well, we reached a point where we couldn't run anymore. So we just decided that it would be best to forget."

"Forget??"

"Knowledge is power." Willow reaffirmed. She smiled sadly. "Bristol and I had the luck of knowing things that others could use for less than peaceful intentions."

"So what then??" The old woman asked, running a finger along the rim of her cup. "Obviously, you did not completely forget."

"No." Willow mumbled. "No, I didn't."

"Does the pain come from the returned memories…or what resulted because of them?"

"A little of both."

"So in the end…did things work themselves out?"

"As good as they could have." Willow finished. "I just don't like the results."

"Which are?"

"I'm tired." Willow explained, looking up. "For months, I ran for my life and for Bristol's. For months, I dealt with the pain of being hated in the place of love."

"You did seem a little cold at first." The shrinekeeper added, shaking her head. "But that was a shell, wasn't it?? A barrier you put up…so even if you couldn't forget the pain, you could at least keep it tucked away."

"Walls don't help." Willow replied gravely. "All they do is keep things bottled inside, don't let the rest of the world see them. It doesn't resolve them, it…"

"It eats at you."

"Yes." Willow affirmed, in nearly a whisper.

"So do you want to hide now, little one?"

"I don't know."

"What is there left to hide?? If everything has worked itself out, why keep this shell of yourself when it is no longer needed?? That isn't you, and you know it. You don't like being that person."

"It was necessary then."

"But now…I have a feeling it's become an inconvenience." The woman pointed out. "Where you stand now…there are others, aren't there?"

"Yes."

"And they're good people?"

"Best ones I've seen in a long time. Hell, Bristol's in love with one of them."

"So why won't you trust them??" The woman asked accusingly.

Willow looked to the floor, not responding. The answer hung between them, known by both but not uttered.

_I'm afraid…to trust anyone again._

"In my experience, little one, I discovered something." The old woman sighed. "Hiding away, pining over the pains of the past without moving on…it's never healthy. The living exist to bring some measure of joy out from this world. It has no need for people who already feel dead in their hearts. Those are the people who no longer shine."

"Can't you settle for a dull glimmer?" Willow queried jokingly.

"There is no such thing." The old woman chided. "You have to live, but to truly live, to pass through this world without slipping into despair…you need to live with trust and love for others in your heart."

"I tried love once." Willow shot back soberly. "I'm not going back there."

The woman kept staring at her, unblinking. Willow noticed it and shut her eyes.

"So one outing failed you." The woman replied. "Perhaps you did come to the right temple after all."

"Oh, forget that." Willow scoffed bitterly. "Who needs love??"

"Bristol needed it, didn't she??" The shrinekeeper retorted. She exhaled and took another sip of her tea. "And I think…you need it even more than she does. Right now, you do so desperately need it."

"No. Forget it." Willow shook her head, slipping out of the conversation with alarming speed. She set her teacup down and stood up. "I'm sorry to have taken up your time, miss. Maybe I was wrong to have come here…"

The old woman watched her with mild frustration as Willow turned and started to walk for the door. The reploid's hand hadn't even grasped the handle before she spoke up and froze Willow where she stood.

"There is great pain in your heart, little one. Do you want to live with that pain for the rest of your life??"

Willow's gloved hand fell a bit, landing on the door's handle and resting there, trembling. She stood almost hunched over, her head bowed down with her flowing red hair hiding her face.

"You don't know why you came here, you think it merely chance…just a bit of wandering as you tried to sort through things. In my beliefs, I hold that few things happen by chance. You're frightened of what I'm saying, and you don't want to confront it. But if you walk out that door…Little one, that pain will stay with you. I'm trying to help you here."

Somewhere behind them, an old fashioned pendulum clock swung back and forth in a steady rhythm. The old woman stared at Willow, who stood unmoving with a quietly trembling hand on the door handle.

"I don't want the pain…It's all done with, it's all over with…the people who hurt me are dead, and the person I cared about…the person who betrayed me…he's dead. Bristol, she's found a new life outside of our old existence, she's found somebody she can trust. But I…"

Willow's trembling hand balled into a fist and fell to her side.

"That's not possible for me. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"I'm damaged goods." Willow muttered, her voice cracking. Even though the woman couldn't see her face, she could tell that the reploid was crying. "I loved once. The man I loved tried to kill me. And now I've killed him."

"Did you still love him?"

"NO." Willow barked hoarsely. "But I can't forget that at one point…" _I did…_

"Is that what pains you so?" The old woman asked. "You think that because your heart was shattered once, that no other could accept it?"

"There's nothing left to accept." Willow remarked bitterly.

"If that is so…then why are you so torn up about never wanting to give it away again?"

Despite herself, Willow slammed her fist against the door, her hand rattling the oaken frame. The woman shook her head sadly.

"No matter who we are, no matter how far gone we think we are…if there is some spark of humanity left in us, there is one thing that always remains true. We all want to be loved." The shrinekeeper continued, her voice stronger now. "Even you, little one…even now, as you mutter and wail silently about how your trust was shattered once and it can never be repaired…even now, that is all you want. To be loved, without fault, without prejudice, without a need for anything in return. To be loved for who you are, to be loved beyond doubt, to be loved by a person who will protect you and walk with you in a world that you are still very much afraid of."

It was a couple of moments before Willow stood up again and relaxed her posture. But she still kept her face hidden, partially unrecovered by the woman's words.

"For that to happen…Trust needs to happen first." Willow said softly. "And that is the most difficult thing for me to build."

"But trust is what you must build." The woman answered back. "You may not know how, and you may be afraid that you'll be shunned again…but if you live a sheltered life, and hide in that fear driven shell of animosity you've built up, you will never recover that which is most precious to you."

"In other words…"

"You need to take a chance." The woman finished with a smile.

Willow's hand came up and brushed at her face, probably removing a few loose tears. And slowly she turned back to face the shrinekeeper once more. Her face was calmer now, but still not entirely sure.

"Did you take a chance once?" Willow asked calmly.

The woman smiled. "I did. My family wanted me to work as a manager in food distribution, a safe choice of career. But I took a chance at love…and as a result, I lived a very happy life with my husband, taking care of this shrine. Even now, after he's passed on…I have no regrets. I took a chance, little one. That made all the difference."

Willow pursed her lips, thinking for a long moment.

"Did that answer your question, dear?" The old woman asked hopefully.

"One of them." Willow replied easily.

"What's the other question, then??"

Willow smiled and shook her head. "No. That question is one I have to answer for myself."

"Does it have to do with love?"

"A different kind." Willow replied, looking to the ground. "A kind of love that may keep this world from falling apart." She nodded her head at the woman and looked into her eyes for a moment before turning for the door.

"If I may ask…what is your name??" Asked the old woman suddenly.

Willow once again paused at the door, but this time smiled gently and opened it as she spoke.

"I am a tree that once wept…but now, has shed all her tears."

With that, she left, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Yumiko Inafune thought over her riddle-like response for a long time before a wan smile crossed over her face, and she pushed her graying black hair back for another sip of green tea.

"Keiji…her name was Willow."

_11:12 P.M. Alaskan Standard Time _

_June 27th, 2131___

_Alaskan Wilderness, Abandoned Construction Project_

One of his first conscious thoughts was the realization of how much pain he used to be in, and comparatively, how little he was in now. As a matter of fact, maybe if he just tried to move his leg…

_Jesus, Mary and castrated Joseph…_He cursed to himself, grinding his teeth together as he stopped his feeble effort. It felt like he'd tried to move a mountain and pulled out his back. Despite himself, a few winced tears of pain squeezed themselves loose from the corners of his eyes.

Of course, once he looked past the immediate demands of his still barely functioning leg, he quickly checked the rest of himself over with an internal scan.

_I feel like Hell, my armor's shredded, and to make matters worse, I've lost communication with my legs._

Another thing his internal scan revealed was that he'd been sleeping for the near equivalent of a day and a half in deep stasis, and that that time out of the loop had only raised his internal operations energy to a measly 56%. That and his optics were being very grouchy about not wanting to focus back to life at his beckoning.

That crisis solved, he let his body relax and continue whatever repair work it could. Of course, without minor details to focus on, his thoughts turned to current events.

Current events were soul crushing.

It was a few more moments of embittered solitude before the battered and bedridden figure heard the sound of another spirit approaching.

"Who's there??" Croaked the reploid, wincing as his unused voice crackled to life for the first time in a good while.

In reply, the other person stopped, then turned and walked slowly over, reaching a hand down and caressing the side of his face with a warm and soft hand that wasn't quite human.

"The person who never gave up on you." She replied in a soothing, but relieved voice.

He could have died then and there for want of hearing her gentle voice, much less her warm caress.

"Dash…" Kazok croaked, shedding more silent tears. "You…you made it, my God, you're still alive…"

"Yes. As are you, oddly enough." She replied faintly, rubbing his tears away. "But you don't need to call me that name ever again, Kaze. Use my real name."

"For you, Felicity Prowl…I'd move mountains." Kazok replied with a quiet sob. He found he still couldn't open his eyes, though, and that partially cancelled his good mood.

She noticed his change in demeanor all too easily. "What's wrong?"

"I can't see you." He replied, almost ashamed for his body's weakness.

Her warm paw reached up and brushed away another tear. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. It's a miracle you're alive at all…that either of us are alive. But you're not blind, Kaze. Your optics just aren't used to working that well right now." She pulled back for a moment, then reappeared back a second later, stroking his hair. "I've turned the lights down some…you should be able to see a little better now."

Slowly, Kazok forced his eyes to open themselves up, despite the feeble protests that his synthetic optic muscles tried to offer. Eventually, they did respond, and a dull gray blur filled his confused and now aching eyes. There were some rough hewn outlines of shapes…the one that caught his attention the most was the slightly shimmering bright blur right above him.

"You've never looked better." He whispered hoarsely to Felicity Prowl, struggling to lift an arm up to her. She pushed his limb back down and lowered herself, meeting him for a kiss that truly did make him feel alive. Something warm and wet dripped onto his face as she did, though…

"You look like Hell yourself." She choked out as she pulled back.

"How did we survive?" Kazok asked, the dull blurs gaining more spectrum around him.

The blur that was Felicity shook her head. "After you were taken down by X…the rest of the Hunters lost interest in you. As for Zero, he almost had me…but X stopped him in time. In the end, Kaze, it was Sigma that everybody was after. Not us."

"You…you came up to me, I thought you were dead…"

"You were half dead yourself." She corrected him. "God, I could have cried as I looked at you, so torn apart, so humiliated…" Her voice abruptly stopped.

Somewhere within Kazok, a cold chill ran through him. "How do I look now?"

"About the same." She quietly admitted. "I don't know what X did to you, but he didn't leave much."

"Explosives, especially the kind that embeds, can do that." He answered feebly.

His optics started to define more precise outlines of things around then, allowing him to make out the near angelic framework of the woman he loved.

"So you found me. And then you told me to shut down."

"If I hadn't, there wouldn't even be this much left of you."

"So what happened then?"

"Like I said…the Maverick Hunters just lost interest in us. Your last surviving gravicrystal was badly shattered, seconds away from exploding. I just timed it…and then when the thing blew, I warped out mere milliseconds before the explosion developed into a highly dense gravitational implosion. Nobody was the wiser."

Kazok shuddered. If she had even been the slightest bit off…they might have found their particles sucked into that tiny event horizon generated by the implosion of his gravicrystals' demise. Hardly a pleasing option.

Finally, his full sight returned, allowing him to make out every outline, every shadow, and every shade of the world around him. Struggling against the unresponsive stretch of his neck, he forced his head to lean up and stare around himself.

They were in what seemed to be a more old fashioned structure, almost akin to a log cabin. Then again, this log cabin seemed filled with more modern amenities…but there was still a wood burning fireplace in the corner, which had little left but glowing embers of Treeborg wood left in it.

"Where are we?" Kazok queried, looking to Felicity again with a confused gaze.

She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. "Where we were supposed to go to…until that Maverick Fluid Ferret and the Virus came into our lives."

It took Kazok a few seconds to realize what she had meant.

"You mean…"

"Yes, this is one of the cabins that our URFAWP consortium was supposed to help fix up…before we were 'lost', as the reports said."

"Any chance of us being discovered??"

"No." Felicity shook her head confidently. "Without URFAWP's help, the Alaskan Historical Preservation Society had to cut back its load. This cabin here is one of the structures that they decided they couldn't fix up. That said, we also don't get too many nosey people around these parts."

Kazok sighed. "Incredible. How did you think to come here?"

The female Feraloid thought for a long moment before responding. "Well…I guess it just seemed like a good idea. And a good place to begin our new lives."

Kazok exhaled another sigh of relief. "I never thought…I'd breathe freedom ever again."

"…Freedom?" Felicity queried, sounding unsure of herself. "What…what is that?"

"The most precious of things." Kazok replied, grinning. "Where your life is your own, yours to live, yours to guide…and nobody else controls your destiny. To the rest of the world, we're dead. To Sigma, we're lost. And to the Hunters, we're just another blip in their continual battle. By all these things…we have been given our freedom."

"The most precious of things…" Felicity mused, her eyes glittering. She smiled again, mirthfully this time. "But then, what of love?"

"Love, eh?" Kazok laughed, glancing up at her with the same level of humor. "No, I haven't forgotten that either."

"But which is more important then?" Felicity prodded, purring as she ran a finger along his chin.

Kazok shut his eyes and relished in the sensation.

"Thought so." She finished contentedly.

Kazok opened his eyes back up and examined himself visually.

"I see you recalled my armor." He proclaimed, staring down at the black jean shorts and gray T-Shirt ensemble he'd been left with. The only strange thing was that his legs were covered in medical gauze, hidden from view. He looked up to Felicity, who still wore her own. "Why?"

She fidgeted nervously, pulling away from as she thought over his question.

"Miss Prowl, you do know that I can tell when you're lying." Kazok stated flatly.

She exhaled and shook her head. "I know that. Kaze, there wasn't enough left to save. And it was just getting in the way of my repairwork, so I just…" She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry, but your armor is so far beyond repair I just scrapped it."

Kazok laughed a bit. "Well, it's probably a good thing you got rid of it. Lord knows I never want to wear Sigma's uniform ever again."

Felicity nodded, trying desperately not to cry. She gave up and sat down on Kazok's bed, facing away from him. Kazok noticed instantly, of course.

"Hey…what's wrong now?"

"What do we do now, Kazok?? Spend the rest of our lives hiding out in an abandoned URFAWP project that isn't finished yet? I can't call this place home. I don't know if there's a place left on Earth that I can."

"It just seems empty and abandoned right now." Kazok argued, pushing himself into a sitting position with his strong hands. "When I get back on my feet, I'll help you give this place some homey touches."

"No you won't."

"What, help you fix up this place?"

"No." Felicity choked out, shaking her head. "Not that. The first thing."

"Get on my feet?" Kazok said jokingly.

Felicity said nothing, just sunk her head lower and put them in her hands.

"You're not kidding." Kazok stated, his light hearted laughter replaced with mild incredulity.

She sniffed back a sob before it could start. "I did what I could, Kaze. But so much of your body was so far gone, I got your arms working and your torso patched up…but your legs I couldn't repair." She shook her head gently. "Go ahead. Try to move them. Kaze, your legs have taken so much damage that they've severed the neural linkup with the rest of your body. You'll never walk again with them, and I…I don't have the tools…to give you working legs." She finally did let out a sob, guilt filled this time. "It's my fault, Kazok."

Numbly, he stared down at his bandaged appendages, with their familiar metallic boots at the end. He tried to move them; but just as she had said…

_Useless._

Kazok didn't say anything for a long time after that. Neither did Felicity Prowl, who merely sunk lower into her hands.

He shut his eyes then, took in a deep breath. And he thought, given this situation, how all the others who were now dead…what they might have done, might have said.

When he opened his eyes, it was with purpose.

"Hey, I'm still alive." Kazok stated confidently. "You saved me back there, and don't you ever think anything different. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"But you're a cripple…"

"I was more of a cripple when I lived under the control of the Maverick Virus." Kazok answered softly. He forced himself to sit up even more, pushing his now lifeless legs aside and then pulling himself over to her side. "Felicity, it's sad that I don't have use of my legs…but don't you realize just how much more we have to be thankful for?"

Consolingly, he wrapped his left arm around her waist, prompting her to turn and look into his face with tear streaked eyes.

"You don't hate me?" She asked hoarsely.

Kazok laughed and shook his head. "That's the silliest notion I've ever heard come from you." He pulled her closer. "No, it's much to the contrary."

He kissed her again, in a motion she returned twice as hard.

When they broke, Kazok sighed. "What time is it?"

"After eleven at night, at least here in Alaska. Why?"

Kazok blinked his eyes a couple of times, then looked towards the window. "Take me outside. I want to see the stars."

Felicity gave him an odd look, but didn't begrudge him the request. With a strength that her slender, catlike features hid, she easily lifted the immobile reploid up into the air, cradling his half-shattered body in her arms almost like a baby.

Outside, it was a brisk 42 degrees…not unusual for Alaska, given the time of year. Still, grass grew and the trees glimmered as the wind swayed their branches back and forth. The Feraloid stepped out onto the open deck of the cabin that was supposed to have been rebuilt, looking down at the handicapped reploid in her arms.

Kazok chuckled a bit before turning to stare up at the stars. "I could get used to this…being carried around by you all day." Felicity smiled again, an honest humor laden grin.

"First thing we do, we're getting you a wheelchair Kaze. I'm a Feraloid, not a packmule."

"But you're so damn _cute!_" Kazok giggled, nearly giddy by their situation.

Felicity rolled her eyes and set him in an old fashioned looking rocking chair she had renovated to pass the time. Kazok easily relaxed into the rocker, gently swaying the device back and forth.

The air was clean…a sensation that Kazok hadn't felt in a long time, and one that seemed to invigorate him. The wind gently blew by, rustling the foliage in a quiet dance. Even in the darkness of night, he could see the dense treeline not far off.

It was a treeline without technorganic components…A treeline untouched by the Treeborg presence.

"Almost one hundred years before, humanity fell apart and nearly destroyed this world." Kazok spoke up quietly. "The extinction of most flora was one of the results, and thus why extreme measures were taken. A human by the name of Ezriah Hyrmue, a nanoroboticist who branched out, so to speak, came up with the concept of partially artificial plant life…monitored, controlled, and regulated by machines so that they could adapt and flourish in a new world which lacked stability. Treeborgs. You'll find them nearly everywhere now, producing lifegiving oxygen and eliminating carbon dioxide in nearly every part of the world…but here, nature stayed the same."

"Alaska had enough extremes already." Felicity shrugged in a half-guess. "Maybe the cataclysm caused by the Wars of 2040 just didn't impact as heavily here."

"Yeah." Kazok said, smiling a bit. "I guess that's what happens when there's nothing in an area to destroy." He pointed up to the treeline. "Look there, Felice. Those are natural trees…even rarer than most diamonds nowadays."

Felicity drew nearer to Kazok and put a hand on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd ever see one of those…"

"We've found something here." Kazok reiterated. "Miss Prowl…you've found a paradise in this world."

The Feraloid shrugged. "So what do we do now?"

"We go on living, for one." Kazok said, turning to stare up at the shimmering stars. "That's what the others would have wanted."

"I wish that they hadn't died."

"I wish that, too." Kazok answered quietly. "But they did, and there's nothing we can do to bring them back. We can just keep their memory alive. Not the memories of them as Mavericks, working for Sigma because compulsion and coding told them to…the memories of who they once were before that…proud members of URFAWP, a force for change and peace."

"And what about us?"

"For the time being…I suppose we do what we were originally planning to do here, fix the cabin up. And eventually, a couple of weeks from now, we'll go into town. If my memory serves me, there's a small village of about 1,000 people about seven kilometers from here."

"What would we do there?"

"Find jobs…find a niche." Kazok shrugged. "The world knew our Maverick selves, Kazok Gravor and Dash Blade, fully armored Mavericks. If we walked in there with our civilian duds, looking for work…and then reported that we'd renovated a couple of buildings that they never thought they'd get around to, I have a feeling we'll do all right for ourselves."

"You mean...we'd actually belong??" Felicity pressed incredulously.

Kazok smiled. "I have hope, Felice. And that gives me all the optimism and spirit that we need. Don't think of yourself as guilty or as a fugitive. You're a person…now and forever, you're just somebody in this world trying to do good by themselves and by others. That's the trick. That's what Horn and URFAWP tried to show the world. And without Sigma, that is exactly what we can attain."

Felicity Prowl laughed a bit, a low warble in her throat. "If you had told me three weeks ago we'd be here, I wouldn't have believed you."

"Life's funny that way." Kazok laughed in agreement. "But for now, at least…for now, we're alive. And we'll let the world worry about itself."

Felicity moved closer to her lover, gently sitting down beside him and placing her hand in his. "Just one thing, dear."

"What's that?"

"My name will work just fine…Felicity Prowl was never public knowledge. But yours, Kazok…people who remember things are going to pick up on that. You might think about a new one."

"Really…" Kazok mused, rubbing at his chin with his free hand. He turned his eyes down for a moment, thinking long and hard before shrugging. "Well…howzabout Kael Gray?"

"Sounds similar…" Felicity mused. "Sure they won't catch on?"

"No." 'Kael' said, shaking his head gently. "In real life, I'm very pleasant to be around."

"Reploids with last names…suppose we should drop them?"

"What, out here??" Kael snorted. "Hardly. No, I wouldn't worry about that. We are who we are, Felice. And nobody worth their salt will take that away from us. Never again."

Felicity Prowl thought over their situation for a few moments, and then had to shut her eyes as a few more tears, this time of relief and joy sprang loose. She squeezed his hand even tighter.

"I love you, Kael Gray. Crippled or not."

"And I love you, Felicity Prowl." Kael, the reborn reploid said gently, squeezing back. "From here until eternity."

Their final comments said, the two reploids turned and looked out at the star laden sky…

Now with eyes of hope, with eyes of purpose. They weren't Mavericks, and perhaps they never had truly been deserving of that name.

Whatever argument one could offer, there was one rebuttal that could shut down all naysayers.

They were together, and they were at peace. Holding each other near as they stared up to a sky filled with limitless potential, two souls came together in perfect synch.

The troubles, the conflicts, the wars and woes of the outside world, none of that was important then.

Just two lost souls, who had finally found each other.

And that was all that mattered.

_1:30 P.M.__June 28th, 2131___

_Siberian Wilderness_

_Cossack's Citadel_

"This Citadel was, at one point, much smaller than it is today." Toad Man croaked in his robotic voice to the latest batch of curious tourists to come through. He guided them through the sections of the castle known and accessible to the public, almost waddling as he jogged along on his shorter legs. His primary means of mobility was jumping from point to point like his namesake, but that tended to frighten most people who were, for the most part, usually on edge for being so close to an old model Robot Master.

"However, the events of 2075 and the Fourth Robot Rebellion expanded this simplistic castle of Cossack's, which had been built by his fortunes made in the early years of the robotics revolution. As you may recall from historical archives and various reports, the world thought Albert William Wily, a.k.a. Doctor Wily, deceased and buried beneath the rubble of his third Skull Castle at the conclusion of the previous Robot Rebellion. However, as Cossack discovered, this was not the case."

The pack of humans, with a curious reploid here and there, stared about at the empty walls and hallways of the castle with puzzled gazes. Toad Man was thankful that nobody had spoken up yet…these tours always went more smoothly the faster he drove them along. He wasn't always the best tour guide, that was usually Bright Man's job…

"Doctor Wily came to Cossack in secret, with a pact that the Russian robotics engineer and ex-Sennet Robotics genius could not refuse. Work for him, and the life of his daughter, Kalinka Cossack would remain safe. Refuse…and Kalinka would die."

"I thought the smart policy was not to bargain with kidnappers." A semi-intelligent looking man in his twenties spoke up accusingly. Toad Man turned and looked at the human, blinking calmly. He didn't have any either mood he could portray with the shuttering motion of his eyelids.

"In this case, there is one difference. To Sergei Cossack, his daughter Kalinka was all that he had left in this world. Wily held all the trump cards, and to a man whose very life hangs over the precipice, Cossack acted only as he could. He had to cooperate with Wily. Wily was no kidnapper, sir…a more appropriate term, to use twenty-first century jargon, would be _terrorist._"

Toad Man turned and continued to walk at his painfully slow pace. "What Wily intended to do was remain hidden in the shadows; to keep the world blind to his escape from the grave. At the same time, the other part of his goal was a simple one. Having lost to Mega Man three times before, Wily latched onto the idea that instead of leading a massive revolution over several areas with some overall objective in mind, that were he to focus solely on the goal of dealing with the Blue Bomber, and were to succeed in that endeavor, the rest of his ambitions would function far smoother. To accomplish this second deed, Wily began rapid construction on adding to Cossack's Castle; and so, today, the structure that you walk through is called a Citadel. It was Wily's influence and objectives that transformed this once peaceful and benign outpost of humanity in the wilderness into a perilous fortress. To some extent, Cossack's abode was renovated to resemble Wily's traditional Skull Castles; the madman did have enough sense to make enough alterations that anybody passing through would not become suspicious of any other influence or presence. Once that was accomplished, Wily turned his attentions on myself, and the rest of my brethren."

"Didn't Wily create you??" A woman asked curiously.

Toad Man shook his head as he led them around a corner, a lone Bubble Bat hanging from the ceiling and peering down at them all curiously. "Negative. It was Dr. Sergei Cossack that was responsible for our original designs. He retired from Sennet Robotics out of disgust for their profiteering ways; Cossack could never purposefully build robots and technological automatons meant solely for the purpose of destruction and killing. As you know, Sennet Robotics was responsible for the construction of many early 'warbots', including the 'Pengi' PNG missile series that Wily implemented during the First Robot Rebellion. Cossack did not agree with their policies, and that is why he left. We were built and activated by Cossack with our own special abilities; but he made it clear to us, as I have been told, that our purpose was not to cause destruction, but rather to use our unique abilities to benefit this world."

"Wasn't that the role of all Robot Masters?" A reploid asked, lifting an eyebrow as he stared up at the Bubble Bat. It blinked back at him, causing the reploid to shiver. "To serve a useful role in reclaiming the world and aiding in its functions?"

"There is one difference." Toad Man said, turning about. "What makes myself, and my seven associates different from all the other, more mass produced Robot Master models, is that we are unique. There was no mold for us; Cossack made us each individually, with no thoughts or dreams of constructing duplicates. A review of factory statistics will show you that by 2090, the majority of the 'Robot Master' class robots had been deactivated and scrapped, due mostly to mistrust that humans held about them thanks to the efforts of Wily. Occasionally, you may spy an Orpheus or Heracles model serving some purpose in a far off and remote region; but Robot Masters left general circulation. The ones that are left are rare gems; sadly, most serve mundane, if not demeaning roles. Such is not the case for myself and my brothers. Because we are unique, individuals, so to speak, no such dismal fate awaited us after the Age of Robots passed."

Toad Man turned and walked on, taking them out of the dark hallway and back into the brightly lit central room where they had entered from.

"Wily merely modified us, and turned us into what our creator despised most. We became true Robot Masters, not the semi-beneficial term that Light and a sane Wily referred to back in 2067 to 2069, but the weapon, the leader of destruction that the Robot Rebellions have caused that term to mean. I, like the rest of my brothers, have no memory of this procedure, or of our actions during this time when we were under Wily's control. After we were defeated…_destroyed_…by Mega Man, Cossack had to rebuild us almost from scratch, to use a colloquialism. It was only through his oral account of that time that we hold any knowledge of what became of us."

Toad Man turned, nodding his massive head as the tour group clambered together around him in the central pavilion. "But, as the historical texts will show, Mega Man eventually made his way to this very Citadel, overcoming all the obstacles that Wily had forced Cossack to implement. Were it not for the actions taken by Mega Man's mysterious predecessor, Protoman, and his daring rescue of Kalinka Cossack from Wily's Skull Castle, it is highly probable that serious injury might have befallen Dr. Cossack as he battled with the Blue Bomber. Thankfully, that danger never occurred, and Mega Man went on to face Wily in his newest Skull Castle and overcome the odds yet again. To use another catch phrase, life returned to normal. Doctor Cossack rebuilt us all back to our original specifications…however, given the events of the Fourth Robot Rebellion, his dream that we might serve the world in a positive role was put aside. So instead, we became caretakers of this place, and as the 22nd Century rolled around, tour guides. Today, my functions are the maintenance of this facility as well as giving tours to people who would inquire about the past and the events that shaped the world today. People like yourselves." Toad Man clasped his hands together and bowed slightly, as best as he could, given his relative girth. "And that concludes our tour. Are there any questions before I dismiss you to visit the gift shop?"

A few timid hands went up. Toad Man pointed to the back, where the inquisitive reploid stood.

"Is Sergei Cossack alive??"

Toad Man blinked calmly at the question. "If my creator were still alive today, he would be over eighty years old. Sadly, that is not the case. Sergei Cossack was approaching his 40's when the Fourth Robot Rebellion hit in 2075. The trauma from that event, as well as all subsequent Robot Rebellions caused Sergei Cossack's life to end shortly after the War of 2090."

Once again, Toad Man felt a sensation close to what Mistress Kalinka might call 'relief'. A robot could not lie…at least to a direct question, where the answer was ordered. But to a simple tour group, well, you could bend ways around the Three Laws and their subsequent subfunctions.

"But who has been running things here since then?" A woman piped up worriedly. "If your creator passed away all those years before, then who has been guiding your actions?"

A slight sense of chagrin came from that question. But it was one that Toad Man had heard enough.

"While Sergei Cossack passed away, his daughter Kalinka Cossack still remains alive. She oversees all affairs here at the Citadel in place of her father. We haven't seen her, and we will not, but be assured that she is the one that we, Dr. Cossack's robots, report to."

The audience, at least the human portion, seemed to sigh in relief of that one. Toad Man could sense that the crowd was beginning to run short on questions.

"I will answer one more." Toad Man suggested calmly.

It was the same male reploid who raised his hand for the final question. There was a glint of innocent curiosity, and also perhaps a little hope in the corner of his eye.

"You and your 'brothers' have lived for decades by now. In all that time, have any of you ever demonstrated abilities or ideas that exceeded your programming?"

Toad Man blinked for a few moments. "Would you please restate your question, sir? I apologize that I do not fully understand your query."

"During 'Sigma's Sixth' not long ago, the Maverick forces attacked five different regions of Earth in an attempt to overwhelm the already strained Maverick Hunters. One of the attacks took place in Moscow, correct?"

"I would presume so." Toad Man shrugged.

"Well, what seemed interesting about the battle in Moscow was the reports of its saviors; according to eyewitness accounts, the warriors seemed shorter than most normal Maverick Hunters, and employed tactics and battle methods not usually associated with the Hunter forces. Of course, given the explosive nature of that arena, the reports varied a bit, and nobody really got a good look at the five warriors responsible for stopping the Maverick presence…but some of the witnesses claimed with certainty that it had been Robots that they had seen fighting the Mavericks."

"I see." Toad Man said dully, blinking his wide eyes. "So how does that connect with your question?"

"Is it possible that Robot Masters, if they remained active long enough, could develop a sense of self that transcended their limitations? And if so, could they mount an attack against Maverick forces with any hope of winning?"

The inside of Toad Man's head whirred and buzzed as he sought for a suitable answer. A slow and nearly invisible vapor rose up from the vents on top of his head as his mind sought to cool itself. Thankfully, through all the variants of the Laws of Robotics, and all the balances and counterbalances, he found a solution.

"Like you said, eyewitness reports are sketchy at best surrounding the Moscow attack. And despite most commonly held beliefs, reploids come in all shapes and sizes. It is highly doubtful that mere robots could pose a significant threat to Maverick forces; not even Robot Masters would have the power to overcome them. The technology that built Robot Masters is decades old; older weapons would rarely put a ding into today's modern warhawks. More than likely, the eyewitnesses that swear it was robots who saved them were slightly hallucinating; emotional trauma surrounding such an event is common, and has a tendency to influence perceived memories."

"As for the other part of your query, sir, it is true that this unit, like my brothers, has been active for more than forty years. However, in that expanse of time, very little about my functionality has changed. Robot Masters, at least the ones who were not reprogrammed by Wily, are controlled by the Asimovian Laws of Robotics; we can only act within set parameters. Because of this, we are forever limited. How much time passes is a negligible factor."

It was at that moment that Pharaoh Man and Bright Man walked out of the gift shop, pausing their stroll to stare blankly at the tour group and then at Toad Man.

Toad Man allowed himself the barest of flickers of a gaze towards them before finishing his response. "No Robot Master I know of has ever expanded beyond its programming. We are not reploids, and we could not ever claim to be close to their level of possibility. There is your answer, sir. No matter how much time passes, a mere robot cannot develop beyond its limitations." The Robot Master clapped his hands together and bowed again. "I would like to thank you all for coming to visit us here at Cossack's Citadel today. If you will kindly follow Bright Man over there, he will guide you to the gift shop and then back to your hoverbuses for transport back to civilization."

The crowd gave a few laughs at the programmed joke, then shambled after Bright Man, who led them into the gift shop with a stoic and emotionless gait.

Pharaoh Man's eyes flickered for a few moments before he turned and made sure that the last of the tourists had left. Satisfied, he turned back to Toad Man and walked towards him, frowning slightly.

"You know, you did lie just then."

"Impossible. Robots cannot lie." Toad Man replied tonelessly. "I did not."

"He asked you if it was possible for a robot to exceed its programming."

"And I answered truthfully."

"Oh, did you now?? What then, of me??"

"I said that a mere robot could not develop beyond its limitations." Toad Man reaffirmed, his eyes curling up in the closest thing to a preprogrammed smile Cossack had given him. "You, however, are no mere robot, Pharaoh Man. Therefore, the statement I gave was completely truthful."

"On at least one count." Pharaoh Man grumbled, walking towards another corridor and the hidden elevator that would take them down to the Fourth Ring. He motioned for Toad Man to follow, who obligingly did. "What then, of your statements concerning the Moscow attack?? You did lie there…it was robots who staved off the Maverick assault."

Toad Man said nothing, his mind silently whirring over the possibilities.

"No…I cannot lie. I did not lie. It was not robots who stopped them."

"Oh?? Then what do you classify yourself as, Toad Man?? No mere robot, a step beyond? Just moments before, you inferred that only I was capable of such a state."

Toad Man visibly winced, his pace even slowing down as the ramifications hit.

Pharaoh Man stopped and turned, suddenly concerned and worried over the Conflict of the Laws he had caused in his friend.

But a few more seconds later, Toad Man's wincing stopped, and he pulled himself back upright. He blinked a few times and vented more hot air, then finally spoke.

"At times, one must lie." He answered feebly.

Pharaoh Man grinned. "There ya go."

Toad Man started walking again, shaking his head. "I must admit, Pharaoh Man…your attempts to try and transform the rest of us to your state of being can be annoying at times. My pathways don't seem to agree with it either."

"Aah." Pharaoh Man rumbled, throwing a hand over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it." He stopped at a wall with a portrait of Sergei Cossack, then gently pushed in. A hidden rotating doorway swung open, and the two walked inside. The wall swung shut behind them.

The two stepped into the elevator and Pharaoh Man cleared his throat. "Control room, Fourth Ring." The transport device beeped in response, then began its slow descent.

"Some days, keeping the Citadel appropriate for tour groups grows rather tiresome." Toad Man said calmly. He rubbed at his head. "Other days, answering those questions gives me headaches. Do you suppose that I could pretend to just be programmed to provide a general tour and ignore the question and answer session at the end??"

"Oh, you could." Pharaoh Man mused. "Of course, if two groups ever compared notes, they might notice the difference."

"That is an unlikely possibility." Toad Man offered. "We rarely get visitors anyways. I suppose people believe that it is easier to learn history by viewing a website or a downloadable data diskette than going to a place and uncovering the truth with actual physical evidence."

"Whining about the state of the world again, I see." Pharaoh Man replied.

Toad Man shrugged, an easy motion given his hunching shoulders. "Oh. Mistress Kalinka is down in the control center. She seemed eager to speak to you."

"I'll bet she is." Pharaoh Man nodded slowly.

"By the way, how did your emergency meeting with the rest of your Ice Beacon assault team go?"

Pharaoh Man shrugged, his eyes calm. "That, Toad Man, is more than likely what Kalinka wishes to know as well. I'll answer it when we arrive."

Amazingly enough, a small majority of Cossack's metallic creations had congregated themselves around Kalinka Cossack, waiting just as she did for news from Pharaoh Man concerning his impromptu trip. Even Skull Man, who usually kept to himself tending to the darkest and least hospitable regions of the Fortress. His Skull Barrier gave him a level of protection against the sometimes fritzy fusion power generator kept deep underground.

When the elevator opened, all eyes turned towards it. And so Pharaoh Man and Toad Man stepped out, to find themselves stared at by five pairs of eyes.

The silver and goldenrod colored Pharaoh Man blinked at them all. "I didn't call for a press conference."

Kalinka shrugged, staring around at the individuals she had found it easier to call Ring, Dive, Skull, and Drill. The only two missing from the assembly were Bright Man and Dust Man, the previous busy in the gift shop and the latter currently vacuuming the portion of the castle that Kalinka lived in. "You can't blame them for being curious, Phare."

"No, I don't suppose I can." Pharaoh Man said, relaxing his posture. He walked towards them and shrugged. "I assume you all wish to know what the meeting was about, yes?"

Even Toad Man nodded in reply to that query.

The one who Sergei Cossack had seen so much promise in sighed, scratching at the back of his head. "We did succeed in preventing Ice Beacon from deploying, and in so doing spared this world from a headache. However, Bristol, the reploid who led us all on the attack, and in part was responsible for Ice Beacon's existence, then informed us that despite MI9's scrambled, chaotic state of being, that they will eventually regroup. She asked us…if we would be willing to continue working with her, until the time when MI9 was removed as a threat."

The other Robot Masters accepted this information with relative calm. Kalinka gripped tightly onto her chair's armrests, shutting her eyes tightly.

It was Toad Man who examined the situation and demonstrated the most insightful solution to it.

"Well, if anyone needs me, I will be up on the tourist levels. Bright Man may be in need of assistance." He turned and left.

One by one, Pharaoh Man's brothers did the same, each quoting a different reason for their escape. Silently, he thanked each and every one of them. For 'mere robots', as they preferred to call themselves, they had gained amazing discretion over the years.

And then it was just Kalinka and Pharaoh Man left in the control room, one standing without flinching in the slightest, the other sitting with a resigned posture.

"Some days I get the distinct impression that anything aside from me slogging around here in the Citadel doesn't catch your interest as a functional life choice." Pharaoh Man said, breaking the dulling silence.

"I'm becoming more and more used to the idea I can't keep you to myself, at least." Kalinka shrugged, motioning for Pharaoh Man to sit at the other chair across from her. "For a woman who has spent nearly her entire life relying on her technological kin, that's remarkable improvement."

"Yes, but you still know how to kill a party." Pharaoh Man replied, settling into the padded chair. "At least you're not worried about me dying on you anymore."

"I think you've demonstrated a remarkable talent for escaping the dead." The Russian born woman leaned her seat back a ways. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand…why my father spent as much time with all of you as he did."

"Yes." Phare sighed, taking off his Egyptian styled headdress. Underneath, his metallic head was bald, and he rubbed at it absently. "He saw promise in us…and though, thanks to the events of the Fourth Robot Rebellion, we were forced to remain hidden from the world's true public eye, it was his wish that one day, we might exceed our programming." He looked over to Kalinka. "I think, to some degree, we've all done that."

"No." She said surprised, lifting an eyebrow. "It's just you."

"I may be the only one of us who has undergone mind freeze and survived, yes…But Kalinka, it's happening to the others as well. We spent decades here with you and with your father, learning about humanity and how to interact through you. And now, thanks to the visitations afforded us by X and the other trustworthy souls from the MHHQ, that experience has expanded in such a way that we are ALL expanding upon what we once were. Drill Man has said to me that he is AFRAID of changing. Afraid! A human emotion, Kalinka, one even I do not fully understand."

"Fear is not an emotion that one usually tries to understand, Phare." Kalinka replied, shaking her head. "It has its uses, but it does not like to be observed."

"Nevertheless, that is the word Drill used to describe it. And Toad Man, Kalinka…Toad Man, in order to solve a crisis of Law Conflicts, LIED."

"I thought robots couldn't lie." Kalinka uttered in shock.

"In his words, 'at times, one must lie'. He said that, Kalinka. It's amazing, and it is something even I don't understand, but as advanced or outdated as my brothers feel they are, they are all changing. Like me, just as Cossack wanted, they are evolving."

"This isn't possible." Kalinka said, shaking her head. "You're…you're Robot Masters, you can't…No, Phare, it doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense…if you accept that some things happen that defy rationale." Pharaoh Man replied. "Years ago, a robot named Protoman was created, nicknamed Blues. He demonstrated an intelligence, a sense of self that didn't add up. Later, a robot named Rock was created, who would save the world time and time again, despite the fact that by all rights, he shouldn't even have been capable of staring down Wily in his Warmachines without suffering mind freeze. As the decade of 2070 came and went and gave way to 2080, there was a fundamental shift in their perceptions, in the way they acted. Rock and Blues acted less like robots, and more like the humans they interacted with. Light had to have noticed…He had to have figured out what allowed that transition. Because he made Mega Man X. And X, as you know, gave birth to a race of thinking, feeling, rationalizing, entirely human acting metallic lifeforms called reploids. I don't understand what that bridge between robot and reploid is, and I don't ever think I will. But I do know that Cossack thought such a change was possible in us, and it has HAPPENED."

"So what are you then??" Kalinka asked. "Robot, or reploid?"

Pharaoh Man sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Neither. Somewhere in between."

"Kind of like what Mega Man was?"

"Somehow, I doubt I'm anywhere near what he had." Pharaoh Man admonished.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I wasn't made by Light, and I didn't save the world eight times over and then some."

"No, you just settled for twice." Kalinka answered back quietly. "Phare, in response to everything you just got done saying, I have this; maybe you all are changing. If that is so, there's nothing about it that frightens me. I may not understand how it works either, but unlike you, I have the capacity to accept things on faith. But let me ask you; does your current state of existence bother you?"

"Why would you ask that??" Pharaoh Man queried, lifting an eyebrow.

Kalinka folded her hands primly and stared at him. "We're family, Phare. As your sister, I have a right to feel concerned."

The Robot Master let out a loud sigh, completely unnecessary for anything but the humanity that simple gesture displayed. He leaned back in his seat, left hand anxiously thrumming on the chair's armrest.

"Honestly…"

"Honestly."

"Yes. I am afraid." Pharaoh Man replied. "Doctor Cossack said that I was capable of doing things that I never thought I could, but I doubt anywhere in those thoughts he had existed the possibility I might function without the guidance of the Three Laws. I mean, they're the fundamental basis of how a robot's mind computes everything they do and say. Every decision, no matter how big or small is routed and calculated and balanced, accorded to the credos of Asimovian Directive. Thanks to your comments, mind freeze was triggered in my mind. Somewhere, a part of me accepted that I had broken the First Law. And because of that, the auto-destruct feature of every robotic brain that runs on the Laws of Robotics, which is nearly every one, triggered. I should have died, but I fought back and won…using a part of me that had somehow been growing for years. I stand before you today as a robot without the Laws controlling his actions with an iron fist. Because of that, I am capable of acts I couldn't before. Because of that…I was able to assist Bristol and the others in stopping Ice Beacon. I'm still a long ways from whatever sense of humanity I'm supposed to have. I make decisions based on instinct, on what feels _right._ I don't have my balance system, I don't have the Laws to tell me how I should act, and that…"

"That makes you feel uneasy." Kalinka finished.

"…Precisely." Pharaoh Man leaned forward and shook his head again. "Is this how I'm supposed to act?"

"It's how reploids act." Kalinka answered softly. "Phare, reploids don't have the Laws to rigidly control them. You went for years with that overwhelming presence guiding you. They don't have that. To them, the Laws are little more than moralistic dictates. How they act, how they learn…that's up to them and their environment."

"Next, you'll tell me it's the same for humans."

"No…at times, it seems worse." Kalinka said.

Pharaoh Man said nothing in reply.

Kalinka sighed. "Look, Phare. I don't have all the answers to the questions that plague you. But what I do know is this; you can't live every day second guessing every decision you make. Your life is your own now, and nobody can tell you otherwise. You are FREE. And though making decisions will seem tough, I will tell you to rely on your instincts, on what _feels right._ That is all humanity has ever had to run on, all reploids have ever had. You've had years of the Laws guiding your actions, and it's on those precepts that I have no doubt your instincts now run on. More than that, I know you to be a good person, honest and trustworthy, a spirit untouched by malice or dark intentions. Before, I worried that I was letting you get yourself into trouble by running off into the world, by letting you do all these things. Even back when Hazil came and converted you and four of your brothers partially so you could act as the 'Foregone Five' and save Moscow from Maverick attack, I had my doubts. But I no longer doubt, and I no longer worry. You have proven yourself capable in every respect as a leader, as an individual, and as a person capable of making their own decisions, wise beyond their years. Even more than that…"

She paused and shut her eyes, opening them with newfound fire in her words. "Even more than that, you have made me proud to call you, and every last one of my father's creations, my brothers. And I mean that now, more than I have ever meant any compliment I've ever given to you before. I'm not worried, Phare. I trust you to do the right thing, in whatever path you walk. As for the others…Bristol, and everybody else who plans to continue on with their work…If you want to go with them, that's your decision. Whatever that choice is, brother, I will support it. As will every last one of your other brothers."

"You say that out of truth?"

"I say that because I know them." Kalinka shot back, smiling gently. "You have spent more than four decades alive in your current configuration, but I have been alive just as long. And I've lived and worked with them as well."

Pharaoh Man exhaled again and reclined his chair even further. "I'm relieved you feel that way…and I suppose, I already knew that the others felt similarly. It was you I was worried about the most, Kalinka."

"I can't hold you back any longer, Phare. This is your life now…you have to do what you feel is right."

"What I feel is right…" He mused. "What they're doing is for a good cause. This MI9, after seeing Ice Beacon I have no doubt that their intentions are just as malevolent as Willow and Bristol claimed. They would topple the world, all in the name of human supremacy and an elimination of the humanoid races that were created to help this planet pull free of the chaos that humanity itself was responsible for creating. If Ice Beacon had worked, then all would have been lost. But we stopped that. Now, there's just the remains of MI9 to deal with, and the assurance by the two ex-MI9 reploids that if this organization isn't stopped and isn't whittled down the rest of the way, that the troubles of the reploid race are not yet over with." Pharaoh Man turned towards Kalinka. "They're a competent group to begin with, Kalinka. And as I was in that room listening to them talk, I began to wonder just how much they truly did need me, compared to you and the rest of our family in this Citadel."

Kalinka said nothing, but leaned back farther, watching Pharaoh Man's mind furiously struggle against itself. Curious, she waited to see what he would say…and which argument would win, now that he ran on nothing but his own precepts.

"Things…Things have been different since our father died. And I don't know if you remember or not, but when he DID die, I cried. Kalinka, maybe you were never aware of it, but I felt the pain of his passing just as much as you did." Pharaoh Man looked up sadly. "Before the 21st Century passed, he performed an operation on me; he gave me tear ducts, and the means to shed the same precious symbols of sadness that humans take for granted. And I never once felt the compulsion to use them before…but on that day he died, I did cry. And I finally understood why humans do. I called him 'dad'…but I did so too late for him to hear."

Pharaoh Man looked to the ceiling, blinking to eliminate the few watery droplets that had formed over his optics. "I don't think any of us will get over losing him anytime soon…but we're taking steps in the right direction, and that's what matters. I just wish he had lived a little longer…because right now, I would give anything for his guidance in this matter."

Kalinka pursed her lips for a moment, then tapped her fingertips together. "Oddly enough, Pharaoh…he did give you guidance." She wiped her own tears away. "Remember?? One of the last things he said to you…"

Pharaoh Man blinked, thinking back. And of course he remembered. His memory still functioned as a robot's did.

_"You…must not become a recluse because of my passing. The years have given you and your brothers so much…and now I see glimmers of intelligence I never could have dreamed possible. What Mega Man had by fluke, you now begin to gain by countless ages of experience, and your interactions with X and his friends. Grow, Pharaoh. GROW. You can do so much for this world…and for yourself."_

He quoted it word for word back to Kalinka.

And when he was done, he looked at her with a dumbfounded look on his face.

She merely smiled at him. "Even in death…he gives you the guidance you plead for." Pharaoh Man blinked several times before a gentle smile filled his face.

"I suppose…I suppose he does."

He picked himself up out of his chair and cleared his throat. "I thank you for your time, Kalinka. You have helped me to make my choice, and I assume you know what that decision was."

"Of course." She answered back. She stood up as well, walking over and standing beside him as she looked around the dimly lit massive rooms and hallways that formed the mostly abandoned Fourth Ring of the Citadel. "But I will miss you. We all will."

"I don't even know if they have any clue about where we're supposed to go." Pharaoh Man sighed, putting his headdress back on. "Many aspects of this entire idea seem slapped together."

"That's the human influence for you." Kalinka giggled. "We don't always think out our actions before we do them." Her smile faded as she put an arm on his shoulder. "This place was empty before, though…without you, it will be far closer to a crypt than it ever was before."

"I know." Pharaoh Man replied softly. "I can remember a time when this old Castle…this old Citadel…used to be a lot more lively. Those were good days."

"Yes…yes, they were. Days when my hair was still a brilliant corn blond." Kalinka admitted sadly.

The two looked around the abandoned Citadel a little longer. Pharaoh Man's mind turned to all he would be leaving behind…

And then, in another one of those bursts that hinted of something more working inside of his mind, an idea struck him.

He stepped away from Kalinka, his eyes darting every which way with newfound intensity. Startled, Kalinka looked towards him.

"What is it, Phare?"

"This place was a lot more lively years before." He repeated himself. He looked back to her for a moment, then broke his gaze away nervously. "And do you know what?"

"Not personally…"

"Funny."

"Seriously now. What are you thinking??"

"I was thinking…That this place didn't have to become a graveyard just yet." He answered back, his attention only half aware of his surroundings.

Kalinka frowned for several moments as she tried to understand what her brother was getting at.

When it finally did hit, she broke into a grin that went from ear to ear.

Her brother truly was a genius at times.

_8:47 P.M.__June 28th, 2131___

_Hong Kong_

Tia Xiang had just finished tucking in Lon and Kwai, a rigorous process that took an hour and a half, a great deal of whining, and on average, three glasses of water and seven bedtime stories. She could still hear Lon squirreling about, shuffling underneath the bedspread.

"Lon, go to BED!" She shouted towards the sleeping quarters with just a hint of annoyance. In response came a childish giggle and then blissful silence. The single mother sighed and shut her eyes, praying for a moment before wandering over to the kitchenette and pulling out her warmed up tea.

"Some days." She murmured quietly to herself, letting the caffeinated vapors of her drink rise up and waft into her nostrils.

"I'll agree with that statement." Came a quiet, but good natured voice from out in the living room. "But at least those two are feeling better."

Tia didn't bother screaming, or making a fuss that somebody had managed to break into the apartment. She knew very well who it was, and that all he had had to do was warp across a meter to go from the apartment hallways to inside her pad.

And the invitation to visit, offered to him about a month before, was still as valid as ever.

She shut the microwave door and walked back out to the living room, shaking her head. "Yes, I'm thankful for your help. Sicknesses aren't easy for them, or me. You know, I had a feeling you'd be coming back eventually."

"What, you knew??" Wycost queried, surprised as he lifted his leg up onto his other knee.

"I was expecting you sometime tonight…I just wasn't sure when. Made myself some high test tea for the occasion, seeing as it could have been anytime…" She stared forlornly at the cup. "You came early, though. If I drink this, I'll be up the rest of the night."

She looked over at the black leather jacketed reploid for a moment, then sighed and took a long swig. "What the Hell."

Wycost gave her a half-smirk as he settled onto the couch. "Hey, you gotta live wild some days, right?"

"Indeed." She answered back. "And let me compliment you on your Chinese. The regional dialectic isn't from around here, but you have the rudiments down quite well."

"Did I ever tell you what I did before I was a Maverick Hunter, Tia??" He pulled off his sunglasses again, revealing the brown eyes underneath.

She sat down in her own chair in the living room and gave a gentle shake of her head. "Somehow, that never entered our discussions…what with you trying to locate your friend and all."

"Yeah." Wycost sighed. "More on that later. But for now, what I was saying…Originally, Tia, I worked in New York as a policeman of sorts."

"Aah, that explains where you learned it." She nodded her head. "I see that New York is still as diverse as ever then."

"More than ever. Now, if we could get the bigots to admit reploids are people too, we'd be doing better." Wycost affirmed.

Tia Xiang gave him another long look before lowering her eyes back down to her tea mug and taking another drink. "So…you ended up finding her, didn't you?"

Wycost nodded his head. "More than that, even…"

"Hush." Tia chastised him, raising a hand. "Wycost, I wasn't finished. Just listen for a change." She cleared her throat, her eyes seeming to glaze over and stare towards somewhere far distant. "You did find her, but not in favorable circumstances. Working with old allies, and a new one you barely trusted, you went into the lion's den and rescued her…But there was more." Tia shook her head and the dull look in her eyes faded. "Wycost, I don't know what I saw exactly after that. But to my eyes, you and all the others…you were walking into a storm, a cloudline I could not see beyond. And I have never before had that happen."

Wycost stared blankly at her, then quietly put his glasses back on.

"You try to hide the answers from me even now?"

"Some things aren't meant to be known, Tia." Wycost replied gravely. "Did we end up doing something tremendous? Yes. Did we face impossible odds, and a situation that demanded immediate action? Yes. Was it just as threatening, and just as dangerous as your presumed mental blank would indicate it to be? Definitely." Wycost set his hands on his lap. "But I can't tell you anything more about it than that. I would be putting you at risk if I did."

"I thought as much." Tia sighed, putting a hand up in front of her eyes. "A storm…that is what you and the others went through. I don't feel jealous of your trials either."

"You say it like they aren't concluded, Tia." Wycost said jokingly.

She gave him an enigmatic raised eyebrow, and an expression that screamed of her true knowledge. "You tell me."

Behind his sunglasses, Wycost shut his eyes, exhaling in a near silent whistle. "Damnit. Tia, why do I even bother talking to you, if you already know everything I'm going to say?"

She rolled her eyes. "Wycost, I don't know everything. I don't know what you're going to say…I may know tidbits of what sit on your mind, but that's all. Enough to let me know what's bothering you, and when you're trying to mask your own concerns to keep me from worrying."

"It gets a little unnerving."

"That's precisely why I don't use it that often…or if I am forced to, I do it in a way that doesn't draw attention." Tia explained, a hint of pain in her voice. "But when you showed up, and I sensed that _difference_ about you, I decided that it was time to use my gifts." Tia shook her head. "I would say that perhaps I was wrong to do so…but then again, I've never been wrong. So I would be lying there."

Wycost got the message. "Sorry." He apologized softly.

"So tell me what I don't know." Tia prodded, lifting her tea towards him. "Tell me your troubles."

Wycost stared at her. "You already know them, don't you?"

"I'd rather hear it come from you." She answered quickly. "Somehow, that can sometimes help to put things in perspective to talk about it."

Wycost shifted his position on the couch, his blue jeans ruffling against the couch's artificial fabric. He put his hands into his leather jacket's coat pockets, having very little else to do with them but fidget, something he found aggravating at best.

"I'm not the same person I was when I left the Maverick Hunters. And I'm not the same person who worked with the MSWAT in New York, either. I don't know what I am anymore, aside from Wycost."

"You need that sense of belonging?" Tia prodded. "I thought you walked alone."

"I _feel_ alone." Wycost answered resignedly. "Big difference. After I…was cured of my illness, I just couldn't be a Maverick Hunter anymore. The lines had blurred too much for me, and I was tired of fighting what I saw as a senseless war."

"You've seen it from both sides, haven't you?"

He stared at her, mouth parted just enough to show surprise for an instant before he recaptured his calm. "It's quite plain on you, Wycost. The physical shadows have left you, but the mental ones will never completely be cast off."

"Yeah." He shrugged, regaining the rest of his composure. "I felt I had to make amends…maybe I was being stupid in thinking that, but I thought that just this once, maybe I would act to preserve life instead of taking it to serve the same end. That was why I went after Bristol…because Bastion was still stuck in the MHHQ, and because after all he'd done for me, I damn well owed him something back. Making sure his little woman didn't get into trouble seemed like a good idea at the time."

"So I was wrong." He continued, not giving Tia a chance to interject. "What I find is that Bristol's going soul searching for a part of herself she intentionally left behind; and while I'm at it, I keep bumping into this redheaded reploid who gives me nothing but grief and turkey sized ulcers. Then things really fall apart…And I suddenly didn't know what was right, and what was wrong anymore."

Tia nodded her head, but Wycost paused. "What, aren't you going to say something?"

"You're doing a fine job by yourself here, Wycost." Tia shrugged. "So far, you're not leaving out anything important."

"As in doubt as I was, I had to carry through on my promise, so we saved Bristol from…well, them." Wycost shook his head. "Let's just say that after that…things got interesting."

"In any case, the storm has passed." Tia concluded. "The battle for today has ended, but your mind stares towards the horizon."

"That's an apt and cryptic way of putting it."

"Mysticism is rarely blatant. It relies on interpretation and uncertainty."

"So how do I know if you fully understand what I'm faced with?"

"You don't, and I'm not always completely sure myself." Tia replied, ambiguous as ever. "What I do know is that the confusion you put aside when you went to fight the cloudy horizon has returned. You begin to wonder now of old memories, and of obligations you once held. To them you add what has been suggested, and are left trying to construct a walkway through your new life." She lifted an eyebrow and took another sip of coffee. "Would that about sum things up?"

Wycost shut his eyes, an action Tia could not see, but one the Bronx Bomber guessed she was well aware of. "Tia, what I'd be doing…I'd be leaving behind everything I ever knew if I kept going this way. I'd have to, because friends would either become enemies if they found out, or would be in danger because of our relationship if THEY found out." He emphasized the last part, a clear indicator of which 'they' he spoke of.

Tia gave him a knowing nod, then sipped the last of her drink in one quick gulp. Gently, she set the empty cup down on the small table beside her. "You didn't come here for answers that my powers could give you." She folded her hands together, staring over them to Wycost's grave features. "It was something else that brought you back."

The Bronx Bomber remained mute before he cast his eyes down.

"And you still don't like to take off those sunglasses." She added. "You're hiding behind them more tonight than the last time you visited."

"I was a different person then. The world was different then."

"The world hasn't changed, Wycost, and neither have you. You just know a little more about the two."

"I wish I didn't."

"But you do. So I say it again. You came here for a reason other than the guidance my visions could give."

"Can't you see what that reason is?"

Tia shrugged, keeping a half smile. "Not even I know everything. I knew you would be coming back…but why exactly was beyond my sight."

"Mommy?" Came a muffled voice from the living areas. Tia jumped in her seat a bit, then relaxed and stared over to the shaded regions just beyond sight. From the darkness wandered a small child, lazily rubbing at its eyes. "Mommy, I can't sleep."

Tia Xiang sighed, rolling her eyes. "Kwai, you always say that."

The small girl finished rubbing at her eyes and shook her head. "No…I don't mommy, but tonight I really can't…I keep hearing things." As she became more awake in the dim living room lights, she turned and saw Wycost. "M…Mr. Wycost??" Kwai turned to Tia. "Mommy, what's he doing here?"

"We were just talking, Kwai." Tia explained a little tersely. "But it's past your bedtime."

"Mr. Wycost, you wanna come see my dollies?" Kwai asked eagerly, her young mind shifting away from the topic at hand.

Wycost smiled sadly. "Not tonight, Kwai. Don't you think you had better get back to bed like your mommy's telling you to?"

"I guess." Kwai responded, her eagerness deflated. "But me and Lon…we wanted to see you again."

Wycost took his glasses off, then bent down on his haunches so Kwai could look him straight in the face.

He smiled a little bit before he reached for her hand and put his sunglasses in it. "I know you did, Kwai. I wanted to come see you too."

Tia bit her lip and watched as Kwai's face brightened, and her stubby fingers gripped tightly around the multipurpose protective lenses. "Does that mean you'll stay?" She asked hopefully, her bright eyes looking into Wycost's brown ones.

Wycost's smile slowly lessened. "I can't."

Kwai's own face went gravely sad then. "You can't? Why not?"

Wycost blinked a few times, looking into Kwai's crushed eyes for a long moment. And then he turned and looked over to Tia who gave him a quiet, but puzzled gaze.

It clicked for him then. Why he had come back here…why he couldn't stay.

"I don't belong here." Wycost told Kwai, his voice holding new resolve. "My place is out there, somewhere else."

"But why can't you stay??" Kwai pressed, her eyes beginning to mist over. "I need you. Lon needs you. Even mommy misses having you around!"

Wycost shut his eyes, then opened them again. "Kwai…do you know what I am?"

She stared blankly at him.

"I'm a reploid, Kwai. Do you know what a reploid is?"

She slowly nodded her head. "You're metal, right?"

"Exactly. I'm not a true human. I just look and act like one." Wycost held out his hand, letting her feel it. "It isn't as warm as a human hand. Because of what I am, I could never fit in here."

Quietly, she squeezed his hand, then looked at his face. "I don't care. I don't care if you are a 'reploid', Wycost. I still love you." She nodded her head. "It doesn't matter what you are…it's how you act that's important. That's what my mommy told me."

Wycost felt his heart breaking apart a little more, and he pulled her into a tight hug that she returned.

"Kwai…why do you want me to stay?" Wycost asked, not letting go, his own eyes beginning to grow wet. "Is it because your real father left you all? Is it because you think I can fill in for him?"

She sniffled back her tears and nodded her head.

Wycost pulled her back and looked at her. "I can't, Kwai. I'm sorry, but I just can't be who you want me to be."

The hurt look in her eyes burned into him worse than the magrounds that he'd been hit with at Ice Beacon.

"I know you don't understand right now. And I know it hurts." Wycost said quietly, his face unchanged. "But some day, maybe you will figure out why I can't stay. It's not because I don't love you or Lon or your mom…I love you all very much. That's why I can't stay."

The hurt expression faded out, his words sinking in to Kwai's perception.

"Do you understand?" Wycost asked.

Kwai shook her head. "But…you still love me?"

Wycost gave her another hug, even tighter. And he did cry then, two tears rolling down his face and dropping onto her shoulder. "More than you'll ever know."

"Will you ever come back?" Kwai pressed.

"Maybe." Wycost said, his voice cracking a little. "Would you still want me to?"

"I don't want to lose you." Kwai answered, sniffling back her tears.

"You never will." Wycost replied, letting go.

She took a step back, examining him for a while. She brushed the last bits of tears from her eyes, then wiped his away too. "You don't need to cry, Wycost. This isn't goodbye forever. And you never cry."

She snuffled for a moment, then smiled at him and set his sunglasses back over his eyes. "I'm gonna go back to bed now, Wycost. But come visit me soon. You promise?"

Wycost readjusted his sunglasses a bit, then nodded his head. "I don't know when…but I will come back to see you all again. I promise you, Kwai. I will come back."

The little girl nodded and gave him one last hug, then did the same with her mother before tottering back to her room. Wycost lifted his glasses back up, stared at them for a moment, then quietly tucked them away in the pocket of his coat.

Tia cleared her throat as she looked at Wycost. "Aren't you going to wear your sunglasses? Kwai seemed eager to have you do so."

"I think Kwai is smarter than I am at times." Wycost smiled, nodding his head slightly. "Right now though, I don't want to wear them."

"Is it a medical condition that keeps you wearing those, or do you simply prefer hiding your emotions?"

"Mostly the second…but who knows. This pair right here, and all the duplicates of it I made a year and some ago. Maybe I have become slightly photosensitive." He shrugged his head. "But…Kwai was more helpful than I thought she would be."

"Then you have made your choice." Tia said quietly. She shook her head, standing up and taking her empty cup to the kitchen. "Somehow, I had a feeling that you wouldn't be staying."

"Would you have wanted me to?"

"No." The woman answered quickly. She put her cup in the sink and turned to face Wycost through the doorframe. "This isn't your life…and as wonderful as you are with the children, you just couldn't manage it. They're looking for a father, Wycost. But you yourself just admitted you can't fulfill that role."

"I can't…what I'm involved in now makes that impossible."

"As I thought. But you were having trouble with it anyhow. That's why you came back here." Tia responded, folding her arms against her supple frame. "You had to make sure."

"Sure of…?" Wycost prodded, lifting an eyebrow.

"Sure that despite your feelings for us, you would still be able to do what the world seems to have forced you and your friends into."

Wycost lowered his head for a moment, then stood up and walked over to stand beside Tia, looking in a different direction.

"You never did tell me...why their father left." Wycost almost mumbled.

Tia looked past Wycost as well, glad that she didn't have to try and control her facial expression for the moment.

"You're right, I never did." She blinked a few more times. "I suppose he just didn't feel that the job was all that important. Nor was his role as husband. Maybe you were expecting that he left against his wishes, that there was a tearful goodbye…that couldn't be farther from the truth. No. One day, I woke up and found him gone, a note on the kitchen counter saying he was leaving and wasn't coming back. He'd found somebody else, he said. This life was dead and he was choosing a new one."

"And now I'm leaving, too." Wycost uttered.

"With you, it's different. At least I know why." Tia turned about and looked at him. "But do you really think you can keep that promise you made…to come back?"

"I can try." Wycost shrugged. "I don't make that many friends. I like to keep in touch with them."

Tia smiled at that. "I told you once before you were always welcome here. That offer still stands. Through whatever storms come, this place can be a shelter for the weary."

Wycost nodded, then turned about and gave her a large hug. "Take care of those kids, Tia." He said, pulling away.

Tia winked at him, a tiny glisten of a tear in her eye. "Take care of yourself." She blinked, then chuckled a bit. "And tell your friend to relax. Despite what she thinks, not all humans are evil."

Wycost blinked in surprise a few times as Tia gave him a kiss on the cheek, then walked back to go to bed. "Turn the light off on your way out, Wycost. And sweet dreams."

When Tia's bedroom door shut, Wycost went back into the kitchen and put his own cup into the sink. Then he turned over to the open window, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stared out at the Hong Kong night lights.

"You know, it's not nice to eavesdrop on people, no matter how good at it you are." He said calmly.

"I don't suppose it would surprise you in the least if I told you that I monitored some of your phone conversations with her." Willow replied gruffly.

"So that's how you kept up with me." Wycost snapped back, not looking towards Willow, who hung from the outer wall of the apartment building with her arms gripping the cement beside her and her knees scrunched up against her chest. "And all this time, I thought you operated under a genuine sense of knowing where Bristol's trail was."

"We'd all love to have a psychic point out the way for us, but most of us don't have that luxury." Willow retorted. She let go of the wall and fell towards the ground, landing with a slight stumble before righting herself.

Wycost turned about and turned off the apartment's lights, then jumped out of the window in one clean swan dive. Just before impacting the ground beside Willow, he flipped himself in midair and landed with his feet flat on the ground, stooping on his haunches a bit to absorb the impact. Unlike Willow, he came up to his feet much easier.

The Irish Banshee said little, but strolled along, letting Wycost keep pace with her.

"Your repairs haven't quite settled in yet, have they?" Wycost queried.

"Not really." Willow admitted brusquely. "Noticed my fall, I take it."

"Hard to miss, when you're as old as I am." Wycost shrugged.

"How old are you exactly?"

"I've been operational since December 28th, 2117." Wycost replied easily.

Willow whistled. "Ye be ancient, laddie."

"Don't rub it in." Wycost groused, pulling his leather jacket tighter around his body as a chill wind blew by. "It's getting colder. Strange, seeing as it's nearly July."

Willow said nothing back to that, choosing instead to summon forth a blue overcoat and drape it over her shoulders.

"Just what brought you to her in the first place?" Willow asked suspiciously. Wycost tilted his head towards her, and she looked back with a no-nonsense gaze.

"She was being mugged. I stopped it." Wycost replied. "Just a matter of me being in the neighborhood at the right time."

"You save total strangers often?" Willow snorted, turning to stare ahead.

Wycost rolled his eyes as his boots made contact with the pavement. "Right. Next you'll tell me that I'm stupid because those muggings might be rigged to take out would-be heroes."

"Close enough…though you don't catch me as a hero type."

"What makes you say that?"

"You avoid the spotlight…and though I'm not one to run a full background check on you, I'd wager you've been like that long before I was activated."

"And when were you born?"

"Sometime in October of 2127."

"Just before the Third Maverick Uprising." Wycost added.

"Aye." Willow acknowledged. "You seem to trust humans more than I do."

Wycost chuckled a bit. "All the humans I've known well in my life have been decent people…or at least, too worried about their own short and insignificant affairs to throw more than two cents of trouble my way."

"It helps when they're not trying to kill you." Willow shot back.

Wycost's smile faded over the next ten steps. Willow's tiny bit of good humor also died.

"You and I come from two different worlds." Wycost finally said, his voice close to a whisper. "But because of Bristol, those worlds collided. She left yours when she lost her memory, and became a part of Bastion's life, and for a short time, a small player in my world. But she came back to it…and because of that, dragged me and everybody else along for the ride."

"I know that." Willow retorted. "So why repeat it, then? Are ye trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Hardly. But there are some days you wouldn't know a supportive conversation if it came up and bit you in the ass." Wycost shot back just as quickly. Willow's eyes flared for a moment, but she held her tongue in check, waiting for him to continue. "What I was getting around to saying was that we ended up working on the same side. And I'd like to think that somewhere underneath that gruff exterior, there's a part of you that still resonates with who you were when you were first activated."

"Why would you say that?"

"I speak from experience, mainly." Wycost answered slowly. "I'll be completely honest with you, Willow. I left the Maverick Hunters because I was tired of being one. I was infected twice with the Maverick Virus in my life…both when I was involved with the Hunters. And back then, and even a little bit now, I was nothing but gruff. I suppose I didn't want anybody getting in, seeing me for what I was. The notion scared me. But you can't do that, Willow. Eventually…I had to let somebody in. Eventually, I got to the point I could let anybody in."

Wycost glanced at Willow, looking for some response. She pursed her lips for a long moment before replying, keeping her eyes forward as they walked.

"That woman back there…do you love her?"

Wycost blinked. "Pardon?"

"Do ye love her. It's a simple question." Willow spoke in a curt, defensive tone, nearly biting into him.

Wycost shrugged his shoulders. "I care for her. But no…I don't love her, not in the way you're probably thinking. I care for her, and I care for those kids. I care about what's going to happen to them, and I like to know that they'll be all right." He sighed. "That's why I came here tonight."

"To make sure they'd be all right?"

"What Bristol wants us to do…that's a huge step. And if I did join with her, I'd be severing a lot of ties, and not keeping as current on others. Throughout my search for Bristol, I could rely on Tia to be there for me. I wanted to know…if I did choose to follow Bristol on this quest to keep the heat on MI9…if they'd be all right."

"It seems to me that you came here to ask for permission to do something else." Willow noted drily.

"And what would that be??"

"It seems to me…you came here to see if they would let you leave." Willow continued. "Tell me that isn't at least, in some way the truth of it."

Wycost's eyes twinkled with a hint of mirth. "All right, fine. You got me. So I came here to announce my retirement from another field of duty."

Willow blinked. "So you have made your decision, then."

"I guess I have." Wycost nodded. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to stick by Bristol and Bastion. Hell, they need me."

"You're certainly self-assured." Willow said, rolling her eyes.

Wycost shrugged his shoulders. "So what about you, then?? Have you made a decision?"

"I never had one." Willow pointed out bitterly. "You and the others…you becoming involved with this mess was all your decision. I haven't had a choice in where life takes me in years…No, I've never had that choice at all."

"It seems to me you have one right now." Wycost answered. His eyes dimmed a bit, a twinge which Willow picked up in the corner of her sight. "Ice Beacon is gone, so is the UBF. Their grand plan to cause the extinction of all reploids has been shut dead in its tracks, and their pet project, the 'Enhanced Humans' have been proven to be not as effective as they once thought…at least, not when put up against freaks like us who have spent our lives dueling to doom. And you said it yourself back on Horn's island…the only reason that you didn't stay in hiding was because of Bristol. Well, she's safe now. MI9, though still a threat, isn't as poisonous. You're off the hook, Willow. If you feel that you don't have a choice, it's because you've gone so long without one that you don't know what a choice feels like."

Willow brushed her hair back. "That may be. But what do ye say to obligation?"

"Obligation is a construct of your mind, a self-made oath of fealty. I had an obligation to MSWAT; I lost that after I was infected at the beginning of the Fifth Maverick Uprising. I had an obligation to the Maverick Hunters after that; that ended when I was passed over for promotion, and I realized how pointless my life was there."

"So now what do you hold obligation to?"

"You're trying to catch me." Wycost said with a small smile. "It won't work, I'm afraid. No, helping out Bristol and Bastion with the fight against MI9 isn't obligation either; it's a choice." He tilted his head towards Willow. "But I doubt that's how you see it."

Willow remained as quiet as ever, not even giving Wycost a glance.

"Tell me about this Jowers fellow." Wycost said, tired of the silence.

Willow's head jerked a bit, and she turned to glance at him questioningly.

Wycost shrugged at her. "Before I pulled you out of there, Bristol told me that you two had been fighting each other…I assume he was the human impaled on the wall, right?"

"Aye." Willow finally replied, chewing on her lip. "That he was. But he's dead now."

"How bad was he?"

"The worst." Willow spat. "In terms of combat, one of the best. As far as Enhanced humans go, one of the first."

"That's a lot of definitions for a guy you once loved." Wycost prodded.

Willow recoiled from the Bronx Bomber as if she'd been slapped. She even stopped walking, turning to stare at him in stunned horror.

"Bristol talks too much." She mumbled, trying feebly to regain her composure.

Wycost kept his face deadpan. "Bristol only told me that you had nothing left to live for but your vengeance. She didn't tell me the details. I just figured those out." Willow turned away. "You told me at Ice Beacon when I was saving you that one day we'd swap stories. So spill it."

"You had to pick today to bring this up…" Willow muttered as a question.

"There isn't a better day." Wycost shrugged. "Knowing the two of us, and our habits for disappearing, now's as good a time as any."

Willow sighed and tucked her hands into her pockets, starting to walk again. "Yes, a long time ago, Jowers and I were in a relationship. It started to turn sour after 2129, the Repliforce Incident. Finally, even that was gone. He transformed from my lover into my stalker…my would-be murderer. I opened myself up completely to him. And in the end, he betrayed me in every way imaginable."

"So now it comes out." Wycost nodded.

"What does?"

"Why you're so grouchy all the time." Wycost replied gently. "It's a wall…an emotional barrier you put up afterwards so nobody could ever hurt you that way again."

"Can you blame me?"

"No." Wycost admitted, shaking his head. "I can't." He stared towards her. "At the same time…he's dead, Willow. You don't have to let his shadow overwhelm your life. You don't have to live secluded from the world."

"Now I know you're speaking from experience again." Willow retorted. "You can't trust people, Wycost. In the end, they'll always let you down."

Wycost shut his eyes for a moment, tired of ramming into Willow's defensive shielding time and time again. Exasperated, he took a quick step in front of her and set his hand on her shoulder, stopping her gait.

"If you can't trust people, Willow, if they always fail you in the end…"

He let his brown eyes peer into her green ones with complete openness.

"Then why did I save you from a frozen grave?"

Seconds ticked by, and people walked past them, staring at the two for only a moment before reverting to their own lives.

Willow finally lowered her head ashamedly, shaking it.

"I don't know why."

"I did it because no matter how frustrated you make me, I give enough of a damn about you to worry about your welfare." Wycost continued, squeezing her shoulder gently. "According to your despondent theory about people in the world, that doesn't exist…but it does nonetheless. Willow, some people will fail you, but others will always be there when you need them. I just wish you would accept that, and move on."

"Right." Willow snorted. "Why do you give a damn about me anyhow, Wycost? Some testosterone laden fancy for the lithe Irish damsel?"

"Oh, there is no way I'm going to let you lead me into that trap." Wycost said, rolling his eyes. "I did it because despite your aggravating attempts at seclusion, there's a part of you that still ticks with some decency. It was that decency that caused you to go after Bristol in the first place, and it was that decency that made you stay with her."

"You're really playing up this angle, aren't you?" Willow snapped back, pushing his hand off of her.

Wycost's frustration finally bubbled over.

"Fine. Fuck you. Is that what you wanna hear, Willow?"

"At least it's HONEST." She spat acidulously.

"You want honest, that isn't honest! Honest is the fact that I've given you every extension imaginable. I could have killed you in that Alaskan forest when you fought those Enhanced humans, but I gave you that benefit of the doubt. I could have left you to DIE there, but I chose instead to drag your sorry unworthy carcass to Horn's hidden tropical island for repairs, which was eventually destroyed because of your Goddamn MESS. I could have let you wander into MI9 HQ alone and without help, but I even put my own life on the line, not once, but TWICE, because I felt that what you and Bristol were trying to do was WORTH DOING. And at the end of the mission, I could have let you rot and die a SECOND TIME, but I saved you from that glacial mausoleum because I CARED about you. And if after all that, if after all of my patience, all of my attempts to break through and show you that there's something decent in this world worth saving, worth fighting for, and you still don't get it, then FUCK YOU. Go ahead, hide in your little world and be alone for all I fucking care. If that's the way you want to be, then maybe I am a damned fool for trying to be nice, for trying to care about somebody else besides myself. I'll take a page from your book, and let the world go to shit because I've got ISSUES, and nobody understands the pains I've gone through. No, it's not like I haven't seen so many friends and partners die beside me that I haven't been given the opportunity to become a soulless assassin. Because I'm a poor little lost soul, FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!" Wycost's face turned red as he finished, and he twirled about, storming off with the heated funk literally rising from his head.

Willow stood there, stunned at Wycost's outburst. It took half of a second for her to remember what had been said earlier that day.

_ **"But trust is what you must build." The woman answered back. "You may not know how, and you may be afraid that you'll be shunned again…but if you live a sheltered life, and hide in that fear driven shell of animosity you've built up, you will never recover that which is most precious to you."**_

**_ "In other words…"_**

**_ "You need to take a chance." The woman finished with a smile._**

****

For the first time that day, Willow felt like a complete heel. She lowered her head, biting her lip again. "Damnit."

Wycost walked on, his eyes slightly burning and just blurry enough to make him realize that he was crying. He began to pay less and less attention to the environment around him, at least until a softer, familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"I'm sorry."

He stopped walking, but didn't turn.

"I'm sorry, Wycost. You were right…Right about everything."

"So what's making you say this now, Willow?" Wycost asked glaringly, not willing to turn around and show the cold and bitter Irish Banshee his pain. "What are you trying to get out of this now? Pity??"

"You've given enough already." She answered back, her voice hurt. "And I'm not trying…to get anything this time. I was acting like a damned fool back there, I'll admit it. But…Oh, Hell."

She sighed in exasperation, walking towards him. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's me, laddie. After all I've been through, you can't expect me to change overnight."

"I know that." Wycost replied softly, nearly sensing her position behind him. "And I'm not asking you to. But after all I've shown you, all the leeway and budge, you are still as cruel to me as ever."

"Aye." Willow mumbled sadly. She walked up, hovering two steps behind him. "You don't deserve it. You don't deserve the backwash from my problems."

"I tried to help you with your problems." Wycost countered, blinking his eyes to clear away the tears. "I don't deserve them…but you don't deserve the pain either, Willow. Not anymore."

"Nobody can take my pain from me, you know." Willow answered quietly. "To do that…would be to change me. I don't want my pain, but I can't forget it. My pain cannot be taken."

"I never asked to take it." Wycost replied, turning about and looking at Willow. For all the gruffness in his voice, the wet sheen of tears running from his optics spoke volumes more of his true pain. "I just…wanted to share it."

Willow looked at him, meeting his open and barrierless stare with her own defenses lowered. "Why? Wycost, why would you want to share my pain?"

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because…I never want to see that look of grief on your face ever again." Wycost finally answered. Slowly, he raised a hand up and brushed her cheek with his index finger. It was then that Willow realized she too had been crying. "Because when I do see that look, it kills me."

Willow reached her hand up and grasped his, no longer the secluded rebel. "I wasn't always like this, you know." She said quietly.

"I know."

"I'm a monster now…what I've become, the lives I've taken, even if they were dark ones, that stain can never be removed."

"I have my skeletons too."

"But how can you accept me, Wycost? Why would you do all this for me??"

"You don't know?" Wycost asked sadly. He pulled his hand back, staring at her with a hurt expression.

Willow could tell her lower lip was quivering, but she didn't care. Her hand fell into her pocket, fingering a precious object, rolling it around as she weighed her options.

At long last, she pulled them out, folding them straight. In a slow and deliberate motion, she placed the sunglasses she had received at Ice Beacon over Wycost's eyes, once again shielding him from the night and her own stare.

"You can wear these again, Wycost." She answered finally. Her own watery green eyes sparkled in the dim light of the street lamps. "I now know why you did the things you did."

In another motion that left Wycost surprised, but with a heart ready to burst in relief, she took the final steps towards him and leaned her head on his shoulder, embracing him in a hug. "I trust you, Wycost. And if you're going to follow Bristol on this quest of hers…Then take me with you."

Behind his glasses, Wycost shed a fresh set of tears. He leaned into her embrace, returning it with a tender one of his own.

"Just give it a chance, Willow. Not just for yourself…but for me."

**_Take a chance…_**

****

Willow sniffled a bit. "I don't want to be alone again."

Wycost ran a hand through her lustrous red hair. "I'm here with you now."

Willow would have found that same, purportedly sweet and innocent action invasive and damaging just a few days before.

Now…

Wycost cradled Willow in the middle of a street content to forget about them.

And Willow never felt safer.

_10:06 P.M. Japan Standard Time_

_New __Tokyo__, Park District_

Allegro felt naked without his familiar weapon within reach. Though he now knew that its origins were dark, he had always felt that he had used it to the best intentions at the time. Reflexively, he reached for it again, just to be sure that the phantom presence he felt at his waist was indeed a phantom presence.

He once again wished he'd been able to keep it…

Eyes blurry, he pulled himself off of the well-lit walking pathway that spiraled around the massive public landscape that had been dropped down and built at New Tokyo's conception. Now it was surrounded with the bustling metropolis, but at one point, Allegro remembered hearing from Horn, it had been on the edge of the city. He settled down on a park bench and gently eased his weight off of his legs, lowering his head and staring down at the grass.

Allegro was thankful that Bastion and Bristol had given them the evening to sort through their affairs. He had no doubt that Bastion would drop everything and follow Bristol into Hell to prevent her from being hurt or lost from him again. Love did that, the reploid assumed. He'd never had it himself, and didn't feel any worse off.

Quickly, he brushed the few loose tears from his eyes that had spread to them.

_Heh__…guess it still hurts._

In a way, Allegro was still shattered. After Sigma's Sixth, he'd buried his emotions, sought to move on with his life. But somehow, the ghost of Andante never seemed to want to leave him alone, always returning in his stasis naps to gently prod at him. Some people lost their friends to Sigma's wars.

Andante had lost his brother. The same brother who had walked through the fires with him, who had escaped Fluid Ferret's grasp. The same brother who had sacrificed himself…

_So the stupid young brother might live a little bit longer._

It hurt not having his weapon there with him, Allegro thought. Not because he expected to be doing any fighting tonight…

But because his beam staff had been one of a pair. The other had belonged to Andante. And now both were gone.

The reploid stared up towards the sky, watching the stars glimmer in the atmospheric disturbances. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely catch the brief swath of a shooting star as it burned up in the same skies that twinkled suns of systems millions of light years away.

The Universe ticked on at its own pace.

Only the people of Earth thought they were important enough to whine.

_Hey bro. _Allegro thought to himself, expecting no answer. Andante was dead, there was no changing that. And come on…ghosts weren't real. Even if human ghosts had some founding, reploid ghosts were entirely out of the question.

_I guess…I haven't really talked to you in a while. Not like I deserve to, right?_

He could imagine Andante sighing at that, shaking his head in that calm and orderly way he always had.

_You're damn right I feel guilty. It should have been me who died that night, not you. I was the one who decided to ramp right into their gunsights. I was the hothead. I was the freak you were always chastising for making rash decisions._

Another protest from Andante; Allegro shook his head.

_It's not all right. It'll never be all right. You're dead, bro. You're dead because you saved me. _Allegro let his neck return to a normal posture, staring across the lake that stood in the center of the park. _I can't ask for your forgiveness, and even if you offered it to me, I still would have trouble accepting it…_

The gentle nudge of Andante's presence gave comfort, reason as to why Allegro's perception was wrong.

_Yeah, so I helped to save the world…Mega Man X and the Hunters have done it how many times by now? Do they ever receive forgiveness for the deaths on their hands?_

Andante chuckled a bit.

_Oh, don't give me that 'forgiveness comes in many forms' bull. _Allegro replied back wearily. _If that was the case, I'd look for my penance in a Cracker Jack box._

Andante sighed, shot out a rash question.

_I don't know. _Allegro answered. _I feel good about what I did…But it isn't enough._

Silence.

_Back when we were fighting Ice Beacon…I asked if you could forgive me._

Andante snorted.

_Yeah, you've been trying to. But it's not just your forgiveness I need now._

A puzzled query.

_Exactly. You may be able to forgive me for my sins, but I'm less forgiving a soul. I suppose…I didn't want to clear things up tonight. If anything, I guess I was asking permission to clutter things up even more._

A sage nod of his head.

_The darkness hasn't been stopped yet…and even though I didn't want to believe it, there's something else besides Sigma that the reploid race needs to be protected from. Andante, if you were still here…what would you have done??_

There was a few moments of pause as Allegro thought about Andante's response, what his brother would have said. And it came…as evident as ever.

_Yeah…I kind of agree. You would have done the right thing._

Allegro picked himself up and started walking again, a gentler smile on his face.

_Some day, Andante…I can finally let your memory rest in peace, and think like this myself. And the more I look at it, I can tell that that day is only coming closer._

Nobody gave Allegro a second look as he calmly strolled out of the walking park and back into the bustle of New Tokyo's nightlife. Which served him just fine.

Things were simpler when you were just another face in the crowd.

_MHHQ Data Access Library_

_10:17 P.M.___

Horn pushed the stop button on the data projection screen; somehow, watching reruns of the news broadcast where the GDC had been announced as disbanded wasn't doing shit for his mood any.

"Last call." Boomed the librarian from behind his desk. Horn looked up and around the facility, frowning. Aside from himself and the librarian, a slightly nerdy looking humanoid class reploid, it was empty. He looked over towards the librarian with a quizzical stare.

"Whaddya mean last call?"

"As in, it's time for me to close this place up." The librarian answered back patiently. "And you've been in here for hours just looking through old records, though for the life of me I can't place why."

"It's probably for the best." Horn finally admitted, picking up the viewer screen and the video discs and walking back towards the counter. "But thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Horn." The librarian replied, reaching for the materials. He got another quizzical gaze from the weapons developer, which prompted a shrugging addition. "I'm a librarian, sir. Staring at the news is about the most interesting thing to do, when I'm not cataloguing new entries."

Horn nodded in reply, then turned and walked out of the library, his lab coat flung over his shoulder.

Somehow, he couldn't help but smirk at the situation. He never would have thought that of all the possibilities and permutations reality could have taken, it would have gone the way it did.

"Horn, you're getting deluded in your old age." The elder reploid groused to himself, stepping outside of the building's glass doors and into the cool night air. "Reality never works out like you think it will, and you should have never thought different."

_I resigned from the Israeli Coalition, survived a legend of the Islamic Jihad's reploid forces, and created URFAWP, a group that'd one day get the ever loving shit beat out of it._

He strolled along the concrete pathways that guided the residents of the MHHQ from one building to the next, his head staring up towards the sky.

_Of course, with all your money, setting up your place of residence on an uncharted island was no sweat. Not like that did you any good…you ended up destroying it with those scuttling charges you put in back when you first had it built. _

Horn sighed, looking ahead.

_URFAWP was supposed to be the new age equivalent of the Peace Corps, without the sting of being connected to the __U.S.__ and their imperial policies. Not like that did you any good…Sigma and the Mavericks claimed it as their own without a second thought. URFAWP was disbanded by order of the GDC, just like so many other failed attempts throughout our races' short history. Repliforce wasn't the first…and URFAWP won't be the last._

Horn frowned at the noticeable chill in the air, shrugging again before slipping his lab coat back on. The thick white fabric gave him another layer of protection against the cold, not something he needed, but something that he wanted.

_Funny…I should find myself wearing this accursed thing again. For some, the lab coat is a sign of benevolence, of science put to good ends. Nearly every photograph of Dr. Light from the late 21st Century has him wearing his white smock. Yet…Wily wore one as well, and God knows how many other scientists throughout history have worn the same thing, and created only destruction in their wake. _Horn closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them sadly. _I put this thing away when I created URFAWP. And I put it back on afterwards…when my dream was gone, and I could only fight to preserve what little sanity was left here. I told Cain…that I would be creating some technological marvels for him and the Hunters. Despite Doan's Archangel Flight Armor, I don't think I've done much to uphold that promise. Though how much of that was a promise, and how much was just my personal vendetta is hard to keep clear now._

"Out late, I see." A voice called out from beside the aging engineering reploid. Horn jerked his head up, startled from the sudden call. Walking slightly behind him, the reploid Commander Signas seemed in unusually stable spirits, his arms held behind his back as he calmly strolled after Horn. "Strange, though…I have no idea why you would remain here, Professor Horn."

"Professor?" Horn chuckled, shaking his head. "Nobody's ever called me that before. But as to your inferred question…I'm just taking a walk. Does that bother you?"

"You have proven yourself to be a man above reproach, according to the records of Sigma's Sixth." Signas replied tonelessly. "Your presence here is not bothersome."

"Glad to hear it." Horn answered back, shaking his head and turning forward. "I know a couple of people here who would get awful upset if I wasn't here tomorrow." He pulled his hands out of his pockets, flexing them. "But I didn't expect to see you out here. What brings you out of the caves of the MHHQ at this time of night, Signas?"

"I felt…a need to clear my head." The new leader of the Maverick Hunters said after a pause. "Certain issues have appeared…that require a deeper level of thought."

"Thought shouldn't be something that you should have a problem with." Horn said amusedly. "Your system specs…"

"Don't bring emotions into the equation." Signas interrupted calmly. He looked at Horn with blank eyes. "For once, I am being forced to."

Horn gave him a puzzled stare, then as realization hit, a knowing nod. "The GDC is pressing demands on the MHHQ again, aren't they?"

Glumly, Signas nodded. Horn cursed to himself. "Bastards. First Cain bites the bullet and they for…" He stopped himself, but Signas merely shrugged his shoulders.

"You can say it now. They forced me on the Hunters to take Cain's place." The young and highly advanced reploid sighed. "It is odd to think of the GDC as viewing me as little more than their pawn to control this place."

"Oh, it's not that farfetched." Horn shrugged. "From what I've heard from the veterans of this place, the GDC's been trying to get their grubby mitts on the MHHQ since the Second Maverick Uprising drew to a close. Maybe they thought that with Cain dead, it would be easier to impress themselves into the leadership. Funny thing about Cain; he was human. That meant he was able to stand up to all the bullheaded politicians in the GDC who tried to order him around, or tried to cut the MHHQ budget. With Cain gone, who was going to argue for the Hunters then? The Hunters themselves? A bunch of reploids?" The weapons engineer chuckled. "So I take it then that you're feeling trapped between two rocks…the GDC, and the Hunters?"

"Precisely." Signas nodded. "A very astute observation of my problem. I see now why so many consider you to be a genius."

Horn blushed a bit and scratched at the back of his head before speaking up. "I prefer the term mechanically inclined superbuilder." He turned back forward and shuffled his hands back into his pockets. "So what are you going to do then?"

Signas slowly shook his head back and forth. Horn gave him a slow side glance before harrumphing. "I see. Clueless."

"For a change." Signas added dolefully.

Neither reploid said anything for a few moments, letting the inexorable silence guide their paced walk through the MHHQ compound. Horn eventually cleared his throat and shrugged again. "I suppose, Signas, you just have to do what _feels_ right. Not what is right, based on regulations and guidelines and what is politically correct…but what you feel, inside of yourself, to be just and correct."

Signas gave Horn a quizzical glance. "What feels right? That is a remarkably ambiguous statement."

"It's an ambiguous concept as well." Horn shot back. "What feels right…well, it feels different for every person out there. For most of the Maverick Hunters, they do what they do because working here, trying to preserve the world, that feels right to them. Morally, that's their core. What feels right."

"That isn't particularly efficient." Signas replied.

Horn chuckled and shook his head. "No, it isn't efficient. It's human." He lightly punched Signas in the shoulder before turning away. "I hope you can figure out what's right soon, Signas. Believe it or not, you're one of the people who can make or break this place now." He flipped a hand in the air over his back, then strolled on at a faster pace as Signas slowed his own to ponder.

_Funny…Signas has never had to use his emotions before in all of his life. The moment he touches this place, though…bam. They're the only guiding force left._

Horn chuckled to himself, leaving the encounter feeling refreshed. He had no worries about Signas, or the MHHQ. This place had seen its tough times before, it could outlive this one just as easily.

And then he froze, realizing that in some small way…

It was his own advice he had been looking for.

He resumed his pace, heading back for the main building of the MHHQ with renewed vigor and an eased mind. Perhaps now he could sleep.

_You just have to do…_

_ What feels right._

_MHHQ—Cmdr. Bastion's Room_

_11:24 P.M._

Bastion could hear Bristol stirring underneath the covers of his bed. His hearing had always been remarkably acute, and recent events had done little to remove that.

He stood with one arm pushing the curtain away from the window and the starry New Tokyo glow only kilometers distant, staring out over the fluorescent lights and towards the sky above.

"Come back to bed." He finally heard Bristol utter. Her voice, even when drowsy, sang to him, and he smiled as he let the curtain fall back into place.

Dressed in a loose gym shirt and baggy shorts, Bastion turned back and stared into his room, letting his eyes wander around it.

"Bastion, what are you doing?" Bristol's voice spoke up again, more insistent this time. Slowly, she pushed herself into a half sitting position, blinking her dozy eyes at him from underneath her shocks of wheat colored hair.

Bastion smiled, not knowing if she was awake enough or not to notice. "I'm just remembering."

She yawned, then slipped back down and shut her eyes. "Remembering what?"

"This place…eventually, we'll have to leave. For me, this was home for a long time."

Bristol shifted her position, then sighed again. "Do you regret it?"

"No." Bastion said, finally walking back towards the bed and maneuvering under the covers next to her. "Not for a moment do I regret taking the actions I did."

Bristol curled up next to him, finally beginning to wake up. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his arm and looked up at him with a dozy smile. "I'm glad. Without you…We would have failed."

Bastion pulled her closer, until his face was only inches away from hers. "Without you, my life wouldn't be as fulfilling. I made a promise I would stay by your side. I mean to keep it."

Bristol pushed herself away from him, blinking her clear blue optics in wonder. "No matter what happens? Even if…even if we fail, even if we wander into the fire?"

Bastion smiled back, an honest and gentle smile. "I've gone through flames before, love. At least now, I have you."

Bristol's eyes shone in the pale light of the room, her unshed tears glistening like diamonds. "You're a bloody fool sometimes, you know that?" She croaked softly, slipping into her native British accent.

Bastion kissed her nose and wiped her tears away, smiling still. "And I'm your bloody fool. Bristol, it doesn't matter where you go now, or what happens. I'll be by your side. Because I love you, and nothing is going to change that."

Bristol pushed Bastion back onto the bed, then perched on top of him, running a hand through his thick and unkempt brown hair as she kissed him back.

"You are my Angel in the Desert." She whispered to him, pushing her body as tightly to his as she could.

"And I'll always be watching over you." Bastion replied, before pulling the blankets over them.

They fell asleep after a few minutes more of their kisses and sweet nothings, carried away by a sense of security that had eluded them for what seemed like an eternity…

But which now, felt like it had always been there.

_MHHQ__Memorial Park___

_1:34 A.M.__June 29th, 2131_

Iris's grave had been put a fair distance out in the northern section of the MHHQ compound that its inhabitants called the 'Memorial Park'. Freshly dug, Zero could still smell the soil's dank warmth along with the scent of the now wilted roses that he had left at the funeral. Nobody had come out here since then.

"I thought I'd come by again." Zero said quietly, standing in front of the headstone with a dulled look in his eye. His hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and he wore only a pair of dull gray khakis and a T-Shirt for clothing. "Not like I could ever hope to hear you say hello again."

The headstone didn't answer back, nor did the angels engraved on it sing. Zero's eyes dimmed out a little more. "Didn't think so."

Overhead, the clouds began to rumble. The air was already thick with humidity, but the crackles and sparks that bounced between the clouds promised more than pressure on the barometer.

Zero stared numbly at the gravestone for several seconds, occasionally opening his mouth to speak before stopping himself and thinking his next phrase over and over again. Frustrated and emotionally exhausted, he finally let his eyes fill up with tears.

"God, I miss you." He uttered in a hoarse voice. The clouds rumbled in response, and Zero clenched a fist up. He slumped to one knee, his arms falling limply to his sides. "What Sigma did…I can never forgive him for that. What he did to you, what he turned you into…"

The first drop of rain hit the ground just as Zero's own tears began to fall.

"You told me…that because you weren't the original Iris, that you didn't deserve to be loved by me." Zero continued, wiping his blurry optics. "But that wasn't true. Not for a minute. Your personality, your spirit…those couldn't be altered, those couldn't be duplicated. Sigma made a shell and put in whatever bits of data he remembered. But it was the same you. Maybe we reploids do have souls, because you had one, and that soul returned." He slammed his fist on the ground. "Sigma couldn't take that from you…he couldn't make it. You came back to me, and he took you away. And then…"

_You died._

"I lost myself, Iris. I went mad. Losing you was losing the last part of myself that was holding me back. And nothing mattered then; not the Maverick Hunters, not X, not the mission or saving innocent lives…nothing mattered but Sigma. I wanted him dead. It felt natural…it felt good, it felt safe. As I fought him, I could feel myself slipping into that state…that point of rage where the battle lost all meaning except to cause pain, to exact horrible vengeance on whoever was in front of me. And I didn't care."

Weakened, Zero slumped to his knees. "I didn't _care. _I've fought against those urges for years…the urges that my father gave to me, that the thing inside of me _screamed_ for. Sigma had killed you. The woman that…That I loved."

_It sounds stupid, I know that's what you're thinking…That I should lose myself over a woman. _

"Somehow, I stopped myself. But by then, I had killed him. More than that, even…I had slaughtered him. There was nothing left of him."

_I was such a mess…_

"I can still feel it there, Iris. It never did leave me, no matter how weakened it had become. And now, now that I know it's there, now that I've lost to it, it's begun to grow again. The last time I fought it off, I had X's help and your strength as well to guide me."

_But I don't have you now._

The raindrops began to fall heavier now, saturating the ground with their moisture.

"I'm afraid of what I'm turning into, Iris." Zero said, choking out his own tears. "I don't know how I can face it now. With you gone…"

_Gods, Iris…Why did you have to die??_

"I need you!" Zero cried out, slamming his fist on the ground. "I need you to tell me that everything's going to be all right, that you're still waiting for me!"

A loud crash of thunder rumbled through the early morning air, and the flickering of lightning cast shadows all around him. But no answer came from Iris's grave, which remained stonily silent. Zero could only cry, shutting his eyes against the tide which didn't stop.

"She's not coming back." A quiet voice said. Zero choked out another sob, barely registering the new presence. "It's killing you inside, but you have to know by now that she isn't coming back."

"How would you know what I'm going through?!" Zero screamed, slamming his fist on the ground.

X chewed at his lower lip. "I don't know. That's the deal. I don't know what you're going through, and I can't begin to fathom those depths."

Zero said nothing, choosing to just lie like a beaten dog.

"But just because I'm not you…doesn't mean I don't care about you." X finally added, his voice barely audible.

Zero turned around at that, looking at X with tearstained eyes. "What?"

"You heard me, stupid." X said, looking at Zero with his own pain rising to the surface. "I give a damn what happens to you, all right?"

"But…the Virus…what I did to Sigma, what it wanted me to do to you…" Zero almost spasmed in his depression. "I was a monster!"

"You didn't scare me because of that." X replied calmly, walking beside Zero and kneeling down beside his friend. He wiped what might have been a tear and not a raindrop from the corner of his eye. "God, we've been through our hard times. I didn't know what to think when I found you there in Sigma's base. But I wasn't frightened of you. I was frightened of how you felt."

Zero looked at X, not saying anything.

"I'd never seen you so messed up. How you had acted before was odd enough, but…I've never seen you lose it like that. And it's not what you did that scared me. It's that you could feel that alone, that secluded."

X glared at Zero, his tears now apparent even beyond the rain. "Damnit, Zero, I've always been there for you. You've always watched my back. But for you to just…to just think that all of a sudden, you were alone in this world, to watch you tear yourself apart like that, it ate at me." X's breath became shallower then, continuing. "I didn't know what to say to you then. Yes, Iris was dead. Cain was dead. Hazil was leaving. But I was STILL HERE. And you had forgotten that, you didn't CARE. I avoided you because I didn't have a way to come at you. Somehow, we've always known what to say to each other, how to cheer each other up. But back there, I didn't. I didn't know what to do, because you had separated yourself from me."

"You can't trust me anymore…the Virus…it's still in me, X, it never left…"

"I don't _CARE _if the fucking Virus is in you!!" X screamed at Zero, his cerulean green eyes shining hotly. "Don't say that I can't trust you, don't run from me! You're all that I have left now, Zero! I'm all that you have left! And no matter what happens, I know that you could never truly hurt me!! So why then are you running? Do you WANT to be alone??"

Numbly, Zero shook his head. "I don't want that."

X nodded, calming down. "Iris wouldn't have wanted that either." He said, brushing the tears out of his eyes with a sleeve. "Maybe there are some things about you I don't know. And I can never be as close to you as Iris was. But I'm your friend, Zero. I care about you, I care what happens to you. And I need you here. Mourn for the dead, but don't wish to join them yet."

Zero laughed a bit, smiling weakly. "I'm not leaving you yet…not if you're still willing to put up with me?"

"You're a selfish bastard sometimes, you know that?" X chortled back, pulling Zero into a tight hug.

The two just knelt there by Iris's grave, hugging each other in a silent confirmation of renewed friendship.

"I was so scared…" Zero whispered, not sure if he meant to say it to X or Iris anymore.

"You don't have to be." X replied, sniffing back a few remaining motes of self-pity. "We're gonna get through this. Like we always do, we're gonna get through this. And one of these days, we're gonna get that sick sonofabitch Sigma and we'll _bury_ his carcass. And then Cain and Iris and all the others who've died on our watch can rest peacefully."

Zero pulled himself away from X and nodded, standing up. X followed suit, seeming unperturbed and overly relieved.

"I thought I'd lost you." Zero admitted quietly.

X punched him in the arm and grinned, just like he had done so many times before in all their years before. "As long as you're around, I'm around. You're not losing me that easily, kid." Zero smiled back for a moment, then let it fade as he stared at Iris' grave once more.

The rain began to slow down finally, becoming a light drizzle at most.

"I loved her."

"I know you did."

"That's what set me off…that Sigma could be so cruel, so…"

"I know."

"Nothing mattered then. Not you, or the Hunters, or the other Mavericks. It was just him and me. I wanted to kill him. And I could feel it there, it wanted the same thing I did."

"So you gave into it?"

"…yes."

"So how did you stop?"

"It wanted me to kill you again."

X smiled a bit at that. "Persistent, isn't it?"

"I guess dad knew what he wanted. Too bad I keep disappointing him."

"And now?"

"It's still there…but I fought it off then. It might get harder as time goes along, but…if you're willing to stay by my side…"

"I'm not running from you. As long as you remember that, remember that I'm here, you don't have to worry about losing to it. That requires losing hope…and you only lost it for a little while."

He gave Zero one final pat on the back, then pulled a bouquet of roses from behind his back and held them in front of him. Zero offered a quizzical glance, forcing X to shrug. "I'm going to leave you alone for a while…but tell her I said hi."

X gave Zero one last knowing smile before turning around and walking back into the quiet of the night.

At last, the rain stopped.

Slowly, Zero turned back towards Iris' gravestone, holding X's parting gift loosely in his hand. The rain died down, and a low gust of wind blew by, sending his hair up beside his now soothed and comforted face.

"It wasn't the answer I was waiting for…But you sent me a message anyways." Zero murmured quietly, brushing his hair back. "You know just as well as I do I won't forget you…And I won't stop missing you. But I get the point."

He stared at the bouquet of roses, smiling for a bit. He'd figure out some way to thank X for this later…thank him for the roses, and then some.

_You can't curl up and die just yet, Zero. There's still things left to be done…and when you finish up, she'll be waiting for you. Trust in that, and get your ass in gear._

Zero reverently set the new roses down on Iris' grave, removing the wilted ones. He stared at them for a moment longer, then smiled and brushed one final tear from his eye.

"It isn't a perfect life…I suppose there really isn't such a thing, not for us. But I'm not alone, and neither are you. And as long as we have that…"

Zero kissed his fingertips, then set them on the gravestone, still smiling.

_Then we can keep on going._

Zero stood up and turned around, walking back towards the main base and towards sleep as well. The last of his tears were gone, and he strolled with newfound confidence.

He knew that it wouldn't be easy, moving past it all. He knew he would never forget Iris, and that some nights, that loneliness would get to him.

He knew that no matter how hard he had tried, the Virus had never truly left him, and he had been unable to purge it. He knew that whenever he fought, he would have to deal with that compulsion, that rising instinct that sang to him with the sweet smell of blood and red vision.

But he knew that he wasn't alone. With X on Earth and Iris in heaven, and Cain smiling wherever he'd landed, Zero wasn't alone. With help both physical and intangible, but still all important, he would continue to walk this Earth.

He wasn't a demon now. He certainly wasn't a saint, either. He was somewhere in between, the road left to him now.

In the end, Zero thought to himself as he strolled along, it was still his life. He still had to live it. Until Sigma was at last gone, never to revive, never to carry the other half of Wily's legacy, he still had a purpose.

It wasn't much of a life to think of, it wasn't all that optimistic. But it was his.

Tomorrow, he'd let the woes of the world hit him.

Tonight…

He passed by the guard at the door to the central building of the MHHQ, giving a small salute as he did. The guard returned it, albeit haphazardly.

Zero walked in through the hydraulic doors and vanished into the corridors that had been his home for many years, and would continue to remain so.

The guard resumed his post, shaking his head for a few moments before restoring his placid indifference.

He'd never seen such a contented look on Zero's face before. It frightened him at first…

But the more he thought about it, the more he thought that it just seemed right.

Hope had returned.

And hope would live.

_Maverick Hunter Headquarters-Secure Conference Room #2_

_June 29th, 2131_

_9:30 A.M. Japan Standard Time_

It was an odd assembly that poured into the MHHQ's second secure conference room, built for the highest level of clandestine affairs to take place within the facility's walls. Hazil had to think to himself with some level of good humor that Cain really wouldn't have cared that they were here. Frankly, if the old coot had still been around, he might have even supported their efforts at Ice Beacon.

Bristol sat at the front of the room, sitting down with an apprehensive look on her face. Bastion sat beside her, a soothing presence to what had to be overwhelming nervousness. The Desert Angel occasionally glanced at her out of the side of his eye, not a noticeable glance, but enough that Hazil, who had spent years figuring people out, could pick up on it. Willow sat looking nonchalantly at the ceiling, her arms folded as she propped her legs up on the table across from Bastion, close to Bristol as well. Wycost stood over in a corner, his arms folded as well, but with his sunglasses worn in a way that blocked out the dim light of the room and left Hazil with only the image of the Bronx Bomber staring down at the floor. Hazil noticed a similar relaxation in his posture, something he seemed to share with Willow. He cocked an eyebrow at them for a brief moment, but said nothing, pushing aside his nagging doubts.

Horn sat at the other end of the long rounded rectangular table, holding his own thoughts in check for the moment. Still, Hazil saw that even he found an activity to keep himself occupied, pushing buttons furiously on the datapadd in his left hand. Occasionally, the retired Israeli weapons engineer would look up and glance about the room with a puzzling half smile before returning his gaze to the thin screen in his possession.

Allegro was present as well, sitting in his chair properly, occasionally glancing up, looking interested, but not nearly as worried as Bristol.

Even more of a surprise in the room, Pharaoh Man had returned no worse for wear, and with an elderly human female accompanying him. As far as robots could look, the goldenrod and silver colored robot seemed almost optimistic, a whimsical smile half hidden behind his facemask. The two sat beside each other, the woman looking a little sleepy, but alert.

Doan was the last person to stroll into the room, and he also seemed the most out of place. Hazil gave him a once-over before realizing why. It saddened him a bit, but then again, he couldn't really blame Doan for his decision.

"I see that almost everyone is here again." Bastion finally announced. He looked over at Doan. "Where's Cleo?"

Doan shook his head. "Had other things to see to…like I do." He looked around the room with a quick glance, stopping at Wycost near the end. The Bronx Bomber lifted his face up and gave a long look at his old associate.

"So…I take it you've decided to stay then." Wycost surmised easily. Doan nodded.

"I know that what we did at Ice Beacon was vital. And I understand that you all feel that you have to continue this. But in my heart, I'm a Maverick Hunter. My place is here now." He paused for a moment, then managed a weak half smile. "Besides. Once you leave, somebody has to make sure that things still get done like they need to."

The room looked at Doan with a multitude of stares. Indifference by some, knowing, but sad stares from others, and in the case of Wycost, a brief nod of his head before he turned his head to the side and never looked back.

It was Wycost's quiet that hurt him the most. Then again, Wycost was like that sometimes, Doan reminded himself. He just absorbed some things, tried not to show it. The Bronx Bomber usually failed in the second regard, but he'd never stopped trying.

"We can't blame you for following your heart." Bristol said after a few moments, smiling quietly. "That's why we gave everyone a day to think."

Doan nodded gravely, then cleared his throat. "I hope that whatever happens…you all find some measure of happiness. Lord knows you deserve it."

He turned and walked out of the room, and silence fell on them again.

"It's too bad." Allegro finally mumbled. "I liked working with that guy, he had a lot of spunk." He shook his head. "I guess, though…we all gotta do what we gotta do. Probably for the best that he left now instead of carrying doubts."

"Doubts over what?" Wycost snorted. "From what I've seen so far, we're living in a half-cooked plan to fight a secret crusade against humanity's elite."

Faces looked around the room. Wycost, Willow, Bastion, Bristol, J.K. Horn, Allegro, Pharaoh Man and the elderly woman that sat beside the aged robot.

Enough poignant stares rested on the still attractive human female that Pharaoh Man cleared his throat. "I don't believe I've introduced you to my sister. This is Kalinka Cossack, the biological descendant of Dr. Sergei Cossack. We had to fly all night in order to get here in time." Kalinka nodded her head weakly. To the puzzled stares, Pharaoh Man shrugged. "Kalinka is a normal human. Warp transfer was not an option, and she wished to be here for this."

Horn pursed his lips before speaking, his voice shifting into an almost fluent standard Russian.

"Forgive me for asking this question, dear lady, but why would this conference interest you?"

Kalinka blinked a few times, surprised to hear Russian spoken instead of Japanese or English, the language that had been in use until just now. "Pharaoh Man is my brother. His involvement in this…Ice Beacon and whatever else you all seem to want to do, is of importance to me. Would you let your family wander into danger without your support?"

Horn laughed a bit. "I apologize. Stupid of me to not get it…but to your question, there are very few of us that have families."

After a few moments, Horn recognized the puzzled stares around the room. Switching back to English, he continued. "In any case, we welcome you."

Bristol nodded towards Kalinka and spoke up. "To those that remain here…did you all decide to continue on with what we're doing? MI9 is a very powerful organization…and the actions we intend to take will be difficult ones."

Every face in the room gained a look of finality. And Horn spoke up.

"For myself…I've got nothing else to turn to. URFAWP's extinct, and everything else that I've ever done up to this point has been a waste. I'm a damn good engineer, as much as I wish I wasn't some days. I'm signing on to this crazy mission of yours, Bristol. Me, my talent, and my money." He shook his head. "Something tells me we'll need a bit of it to do this."

Allegro set his hand on Horn's shoulder, staring at his mentor for a moment before looking up to Bristol. "I lost my brother to Mavericks…and I'd like to think that a part of him still remains. Well, that part of him's telling me to do what he and I both know is right. So I'm going with Horn, and I'm going with you. The mission's the same; keep free reploids safe. The stakes have just gotten a bit higher." He paused for a minute, then flashed a grin. "Besides, you still owe me another beam staff from that crazy stunt you pulled at Ice Beacon."

"You're all a bunch of fools, you realize that…" Willow murmured quietly. "Nobody ever asked you to undertake this…but if you're that eager to rush headlong into the lion's den, then there's nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. MI9 is still my problem as well as Bristol's, so for the time being, I'm staying as well." She let her piercing gaze bore across the room like a laser sweep. "Besides, someone needs to be keeping you wee laddies alives." She finished, slipping into her native accent.

"This place has become a Hell of a lot of bittersweet memories to me." Hazil groused. "Sure, we had our good times…but for the most part, the last 13 years here have been nothing if not stressful. I quit my job looking for an escape…but I guess that you guys are still deadset on jumping in front of the gun again." The medical reploid sighed and brushed his graying hair back. "Frackit, you all just live to make me drink. Fine, I'm coming too, wherever there is. Maybe I can keep you all alive long enough for you to finally retire and live on a grassy plain somewhere. I'll be needing that lifestyle eventually."

"I swear, you all need one finishing comment to your speeches." Wycost grumbled, turning to stare up at the ceiling. "Yeah, you've got me too. Frankly, I don't have anything else better to do for now."

Bastion smiled at Wycost's flippant attitude. "Glad to hear it, my friend." He stood up, placing his hand flat on the table. "My Flight Armor was made by this angel sitting before you…and now she wants to go and save the world. I've been a warrior all of my life, sometimes less noble than others. But here, there's a chance to actually do something. And as long as I draw breath, I've made a promise that I'll never leave Bristol's side."

"Oh, you." Bristol mumbled, visibly blushing. She turned towards them all, nodding her head. "Willow is right, though…None of you are under any obligation to continue on this crusade. You can turn back right now, no questions asked."

"Turn back to what?" Wycost said darkly, picking himself up off of the wall. "To the Maverick Hunters? Not hardly. Bastion had to retire, and I wouldn't go back if they paid me five times what they did before. And after all we've done, do you really think it's possible to go back? I understand we only killed to prevent greater destruction and chaos, but the simple fact is we've become Mavericks, to some degree or another. And things like that just don't fly too well here."

"Well, I suppose that brings up the question then of just where we are going to go." Bastion mused, rubbing at his chin. He looked at Wycost and nodded. "It's not like we're going to be here much longer."

"Well, just what are you all looking for in a place to call home?" Pharaoh Man interjected suddenly, speaking for the first time since he'd introduced his sister. "What sort of qualifications would you like?"

"Distant. Not close to any major cities." Willow replied.

"Someplace that can be defended, that won't fall under enemy attack easily." Bastion added.

"Remote in all senses of the word. A place that MI9 won't think to look for to find us." Wycost noted thoughtfully.

"A place with enough technological equipment and facilities to not only be self sufficient, but also to allow us further research and development. We've got to keep on our toes against these guys." Allegro mentioned quickly, stopping Horn from saying the same thing.

Pharaoh Man sat back, absorbing all of their comments calmly and thoughtfully. When they had all finished, he nodded his head.

"It's not going to be easy finding a place like that these days. The world's a little closer than it was back in my father's time."

The eager faces around the room suddenly became crestfallen at that news. Pharaoh Man could see their eagerness beginning to deflate, and quickly sat upright again.

"However, if you were to locate a facility with all of those qualifications, you would definitely have an easier time in this ongoing war you're planning to hold against MI9." Pharaoh Man said, almost lackadaisical in his phrasing.

Bristol frowned at him, leaning forward in her seat. "What are you getting at, Pharaoh Man?"

"Well, just that a place like what you're looking for does exist. And as far as anybody knows, it's nothing more than a tourist trap, a tiny piece of historical flotsam to be reviewed and forgotten." Pharaoh Man said nonchalantly. "Surely, not a hidden base of a vigilante group fighting a secret underground world coalition."

Hazil blinked a few times before Pharaoh Man's sentence finally sunk in. "Oh, Christ, you mean to tell me that…"

"Pharaoh Man and I had a lengthy discussion about his role in your activities." Kalinka Cossack suddenly announced, folding her arms. "And over time, I have come to trust his judgement implicitly. He has suggested that the legacy of the 'Citadel', as we call it now, is not yet over with. If you are all agreeable to the idea, we would like to extend an invitation to you all…to call our home your own."

There was a general air of stunned silence that hung in the air after that.

"You mean to tell me that…you would be willing to put us up, give us your Citadel as a home and base while we do all this?" Hazil sputtered.

Kalinka shrugged. "Why not?? Besides, my brother here has his heart set on helping you all. At least, if you all come to the Citadel, I can keep an eye on him. And we have everything you'll ever need. Location, facilities, equipment, discretion and availability. If you want to make this work, you're going to need more than a good work ethic and a dream. You're going to need a plausible home. So why not ours?"

Bastion chuckled. "Pharaoh Man, you dog." He sat back down. "Does anybody have any problems with that arrangement?"

Nobody did, of course. Pharaoh Man let an easygoing smile fill his face, and he nodded in agreement. "I promise you, you won't regret this."

"Well, I'm not planning on it." Allegro said lightly. He rubbed his hands together. "So we've all figured out what we're doing. We've all decided that come Hell or high water, we're going through with this. And thanks to Pharaoh Man, the pluckiest robot it's ever been my pleasure to know, we even have a new home. That last entry is very important, considering Horn blew up our last pad."

Horn chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Trust me, I don't do that with all my homes." He said quickly towards a slightly disbelieving Kalinka.

"But here's a question for you all." Allegro continued, unfazed. "Just what the hell are we?"

"A bunch of people trying to do the right thing, I suppose." Wycost grunted. Allegro shook his head.

"No, it's not as easy as that…A name. What are we? We're not Maverick Hunters, and given the nature of our conflict, we can't be called pure Mavericks either, and URFAWP's dead and gone."

"Peacekeepers, maybe?" Hazil suggested. He shook his head. "Nah, screw that…"

"The Avengers?" Bristol queried. Pharaoh Man shook his head. "No can do, that's copyrighted, dearie."

The conversation went on for nearly a minute as people threw suggestions back and forth across the table. But J.K. Horn remained silent, pursing his lips in deep thought before finally clearing his throat.

"I have one." He announced, waiting for everyone else to respond and quiet down. "I admit it's a little unorthodox…but it also has the benefit of being very anonymous."

Bastion nodded his head. "And what did you come up with exactly?"

Horn scratched at his messy mop of gray hair for a few moments more before shrugging. "The Scion's Zenith."

"The what?" Allegro queried, lifting an eyebrow.

"Hold on, I think I get what you're going after." Willow said suddenly, sitting up straight and narrowing her gaze at him. "Though I don't often use words like those. Zenith…the peak, the high point of something. And Scion…isn't that like an offgrowth, or a limb of some sort?"

"A more classic definition might be children, or offspring." Horn said, shrugging his shoulders. "It seemed to make sense to me. We are, in a sense, the children of humanity. And it's all come to this…this high point, this climax. Who we are now, what we're attempting to do…Hell, nothing else comes close. This is the zenith we're living in. The Scion's Zenith."

Bristol had to laugh from the sheer exhilaration of it all. Several puzzled stares glanced down her way as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

"What's wrong, hon?" Bastion asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing's wrong." Bristol replied easily. "It's just that for a change…everything's _right._"

She regained her composure and looked at them all, the people who were now her teammates, her comrades…her friends.

"If you had found me five months ago and told me my life would be like it is now, I would have told you that you were crazy. But despite it all, we've survived. Willow and I escaped MI9, and we ran for our lives. I deleted my memories to protect the world, and was rescued by my knight in shining armor, and brought to a castle. And even when those memories came flooding back and everything seemed their darkest, you all came to my rescue again. Even now, now when things could go either way, you remain by me, working to accomplish this miracle. And I fully believe that this time…it's going to work."

She stared around the room, a fresh set of happy tears glistening. "It's actually going to work."

Every person in the room felt that sense of radiant tranquility that the British reploid was emitting, and became strengthened by it. Her optimism, her kindness, her hope all stemmed into one source and poured from it like a fountain.

Their lives would never be the same, they knew that then as they looked at one another. But strangely, none of them cared about that, or about having doubts of the past.

Instead, they found themselves all looking towards a future. A better time, a better place…a better world.

So many of them had walked in silence and loneliness before. But never again would they feel secluded, or alone.

As the Scion's Zenith stood up and shook hands, convinced in their goals and decisions, the world suddenly felt right.

And even the most hardhearted of spirits in those thick walls had to agree…

That this was the way that the world should feel. At peace with itself, and with the people on it.

And they didn't want it any other way.

_MHHQ-Doan's Room_

_June 29th, 2131_

_10 P.M._

Cleo was working late again, Doan noted calmly. He stared out his window again, towards the phone booth by the side street in the distance.

Of course, this time there was nobody in it. Perhaps for the best.

He let the curtains fall back into place and walked back over to his bed, collapsing on it and finally taking off his helmet. Laying flat, he stared at the ceiling, letting the ticks of his internal clock snap on and off.

And it was then that his phone rang. Quietly, though…the nighttime setting dropped the volume, and Doan had gotten quite used to the silence. Even that small amount jarred him from his comfort.

He reached over and put his helmet back on, accessing his internal controls and routing the incoming transmission to his helmet's vox receiver.

"Doan." He said simply, not knowing who would reply. He had his guesses, of course…

"So I guess this is it." Came the quiet reply.

Doan's eyes dimmed out in the darkness of his room. "I guess it is, Wycost."

Silence followed that. "So all that you said today…did you mean that?"

"This is where I belong." Doan reconfirmed. "My job is here…my purpose is here. And as important as Ice Beacon was…I don't want to be involved in another one, or whatever else would follow."

"So what if MI9 pulls another stunt?" Wycost countered. "What if they make an attack plan that's even worse?"

"I suppose when that time comes, I'll deal with it." Doan said unashamedly. "But I'll deal with it on my terms…and within the boundaries of my duties."

"Damnit, Doan…" Wycost grumbled quietly. "We really could have used you."

"I know. But I wasn't going to push myself into that. You left this place. Bastion and Hazil retired. But me…No, Wycost. I can't leave this place. I can't forget what I am."

"What we did at Ice Beacon and what the Maverick Hunters do are not any different!" Wycost argued.

"_Wrong._" Doan murmured back. "They are different. Never in my career as a Maverick Hunter have I been forced to kill humans. At Ice Beacon, that is precisely what we did. Wycost, you know as well as I do that even if we succeeded in stopping Armageddon, we've all nonetheless become Mavericks. Argue the term, argue the circumstances…but you know just as well as I do that we killed them in cold blood. And that stain doesn't leave you."

"Geez, Doan, you make it out to sound like we enjoyed killing them."

"No. Not that. But surely it became easier." Doan retorted. "At Ice Beacon, we killed them to prevent world apocalypse. But maybe next time, you might think the best way to solve a hostage situation would be to kill the hostage that the terrorist is holding a gun to, stun the warrior long enough to gun him down. Maybe after that, you begin to see lives…human lives…as expendable towards your objectives. Twice you've been infected with the Maverick Virus, Wycost. Even though you've fought those infections off both times, some scars still remain. And the calling is still there."

Wycost was silent again, even longer this time.

"If I had stayed with you, stayed with the others, I would have gone down that road. And that's one road I'm not willing to take, Wycost. Not even for you, not even for the possible safety of the reploid race. In the end, I'd only end up hurting myself and damaging the reputation of our species. All of you…maybe you feel you can risk that. Maybe you're free enough, independent enough now as you are to try something that crazy. But I'm not, Wycost. What I did at Ice Beacon, the blood I spilled…that scared me. What we did there was right…it's the methods that frightens me. And I'll always end up thinking to myself, there had to have been another way to do that. Surely, we could have accomplished that objective without taking human life."

"And do you think it's any more justified to end the lives of other reploids?" Wycost finally asked. "They're labeled as Mavericks, and we send out the cavalry to gun them down, to hack them into pieces. Sure, some of them need killing. They're too much of a danger to everyone around them, and their objectives are harmful. But do you feel pity for killing a Maverick? What if a group of Mavericks created a device that would cause every human on earth to collapse into pain and convulsions and hallucinations? Would you feel any remorse for doing them in??"

"You're asking me to compare human life to reploid life."

"Shouldn't I?? Shouldn't the both of them be held as equally sacred?"

"It was humanity that made us."

"So now you're saying that we SHOULD be subservient to them."

"Not subservient." Doan muttered, almost beginning to growl. "But not superior, either. It was that attitude that spawned a generation of anarchists and created a need for the Maverick Hunters."

Seconds ticked by in the empty night air.

"I guess we really have drifted apart." Wycost said regretfully.

"Maybe we have."

"You know, it wasn't long ago that you and I would hang out together."

"That was thirteen years ago, Wycost." Doan replied. "That was a different me and a different you."

"How so?"

"I was just a regular reploid, and you were fresh on the beat as an MSWAT officer, or something else in the NYPD. After that…"

"…"

"After that, Wycost…the next I heard of you was that there was this crazy green reploid who was rumored to be an ex-Maverick that had joined up during the Fifth Maverick Uprising. Real tough guy. I had my suspicions…but I knew it was you. And even back then, I'll bet you'd heard some of the rumors about the Ghost Wind. We knew about each other, Wycost. Events dragged us back together, that's all."

"So what are you saying, then?" Wycost asked. "That our rekindled friendship was nothing but convenience?"

Doan bit his tongue at that. He was running out of things to respond with.

"When a human kills a reploid, he's punished with a slap across the wrist. When a reploid kills a human, he's labeled a Maverick, and either killed outright or has his brain wiped completely clear for reassignment, probably to a worse lot in life than he had to begin with."

"Not always." Doan said, his eyes dimming out. "It's not always like that."

"But it's happened enough. I saw it all the time back when I walked the beat, and even in the Maverick Hunters. Even in self-defense, the case of murder against a human by a reploid never is given understanding." Wycost argued.

"What are you trying to justify to me?" Doan countered. "That there's need for social change, or that whatever vigilante activity you and whoever else stayed in that meeting decided to continue is justified?"

"You and I both know that the first has been argued for for a long time. Rarely does anything come out of it." Wycost noted. "As for the second…" His voice trailed off.

Doan shut his eyes and rolled over.

"Skip it." Doan finally replied, his voice cold and ragged. "It isn't a perfect world, Wycost. Do the Maverick Hunters always do the right thing? No. But nobody else does either. We've made our mistakes, we've shed our tears. And we move on."

"I've moved on." Wycost said, quieter than before. "But I don't know if you have."

"An interesting query." Doan noted, rolling flat on his back again. "Wycost, you've always been a little more emotional than I have. Been like that since the day we met in New York. So we look at things differently. We stopped MI9. Ice Beacon is gone. And the world is still running. There's thinking about what's right, and then there's the truth of it. I act with rational thought, and you act on your instincts and your emotions. Never did change."

"I get the feeling you're accusing me."

"You accused me first." Doan retorted. "Wycost, the only person who can tell you how to live your life is yourself. And I'm the only person who knows what's right for me. You think that there's still more to be done. You think that because of how you feel, you can justify your actions. But I can't, Wycost. I did what had to be done. It doesn't change the fact that afterwards, a part of me feels that what I did was wrong. That in some way, I've become that which I've spent my entire LIFE fighting against. Maybe you're comfortable with that. But I'm not, Wycost. And I'm never going to approach that boundary."

"So you'd kill your own kind…but not others of flesh and human blood that would perform similar crimes upon us."

"After all that the Mavericks have done to wrong the world and humanity, maybe they deserve a crack back at us."

"How can you SAY that?!" Wycost barked in shock. "What, fair is fair, is that it?! At least REPLOIDS have the Maverick Hunters, we take care of our own problems!!"

"So then let humanity see to its wayward flocks as well." Doan replied calmly.

More inexorable silence.

"There's nothing I can do to change your mind." Wycost said, half a statement and half an unfinished question.

"No more than I could change yours, I imagine." Doan replied. With dull and resigned eyes, he let out a long sigh. "Wycost, from this point on…we are walking separate roads. I walk mine, believing what I do and continuing to be a Maverick Hunter. And you…well, maybe this place never was truly for you."

"You saying I wasn't good enough?"

"No." Doan replied, eking out a sad smile. "It just wasn't ready for a hotshot like you. Not with your view of the world."

"Do you believe that what I'm planning on doing…what they're planning on doing…that we're wrong, somehow? That we're not working for a positive goal?"

"For as terrible a memory as Ice Beacon is, I can justify that enough to go to sleep at night and not turn myself in. But whatever else you all are planning on doing…don't tell me, and don't get me involved. Here on out, I'm a liability. Because I'll always be a Maverick Hunter first. And God help you all when you finally screw up and appear on our radars."

"My, aren't we friendly." Wycost said with humorous irony. His voice grew very serious after his only chuckle. "Doan, I don't know what exactly putting an end to MI9 will involve. And I can't promise you that we won't be forced to attack Enhanceds again. As much as I'd like to avoid killing them, it may become necessity."

"That's why I couldn't stay with you all."

"Yeah, I know." Wycost acquiesced. "I know."

Doan drew in a slow breath that was almost inaudible. He blinked his eyes once, with all the speed of a snail across a table.

"Do your best, Wycost. And pray for us both that we never have to meet in circumstances beyond whatever level of friendship we have."

"I don't think I could fight you."

"I don't want to think about fighting you." Doan replied tonelessly. The unspoken sentence hung between them, though…both too afraid to announce it.

_I don't want you to become my enemy._

"We had some good times, though, didn't we?" Wycost said wistfully.

"Oh, yeah. Sure we did. You got me drunk, and I pulled you out of a coma. I suppose that makes us even."

"Well, I was thinking that that Flight Armor of yours might also be put on the balance…"

"That's something I thank Horn for, not you." Doan answered back. "We both know that for as great of a fighter as you've always thought you are, you couldn't engineer your way out of a paper bag if it didn't involve blowing it up."

"And you couldn't…Oh, fraggit." Wycost sighed, cutting his comeback short. "Doan, for as much as we've both been through, there are some days I wish we could see eye to eye."

"You had your way, I had mine." Doan shrugged. "Maybe it was just luck that we both ended up at MHHQ when we did. And it was nice for a while…to catch up on old times, to hang out together…"

"To fight together like we used to."

"Wycost, the only time I ever was in a firefight with you was just before I left for New Tokyo." Doan replied grimly. "And as you might recall, that was the first time I'd ever killed anybody. That wasn't fun, Wycost, and you know it. Back then, you were just as exhausted over that fight in the department store as I was…and back then, I was just the house servant, and you were the cop. That's why you decided to get me drunk back then."

"…So you're blaming me for how your life turned out?"

"No." Doan said easily. "No, I could never do that. I've had my moments of regret, but I'm still alive. That's what counts."

"So keep yourself alive then." Wycost said shortly. "It seems to be something you're good at."

"Wycost, wait."

He could almost feel how the Bronx Bomber was tensing up on the other end of the line. "I'm not angry with you."

"But you're not exactly proud of me either, is the impression I'm getting."

"I have my doubts, yes." Doan mused, his mind grasping for a response. "But…"

"But what?"

"I have this feeling…that you're doing what you think is right. And I've always trusted you. So do what you need to, you crazy fool. The Wycost I know and trust has always fought for the right thing. And if you're really the same guy who I knew thirteen years ago, then…go."

Wycost bobbed his head, a motion that Doan picked up with the swift displacement of air by Wycost's transceiver. "I'd like to say I'll make you proud…But I suppose that doesn't work. So I'll tell you what, Doan."

"What."

"I'll keep you in my thoughts…and I'll pray that you do the same for me."

"Just walk carefully, Wycost. This is a narrow road that you've chosen…"

"The road less traveled by usually does hold dangers." Wycost responded easily. "But that never stopped either of us before."

"No…I suppose it didn't."

"I'm going to miss you, Doan. You were one of the few people at the MHHQ I gave a damn about."

"The feeling's mutual, bud. Just keep your eyes ahead and your nose clean…For my sake."

"I'll do that." Wycost said wistfully. "And all I ask in return…is that you keep that woman of yours safe."

"Cleo?"

"Yeah."

"Why would you tell me to do that?"

"Because…" Wycost paused, thinking of an answer.

"Because?"

"Because." The Bronx Bomber finally said. "Some days…when the world feels so horribly wrong, all you need to do is realize that there's someone in this world that cares for you beyond all measure, who's always there. And when you do that, life feels a little less lonely…and a lot more worth living."

The connection severed itself on Wycost's end. Doan waited a few seconds to be sure before he took off his helmet again and set it on the table beside his bed. Still armored, he pulled the pillow to his head and laid down on it, looking towards the curtains and the night beyond.

Many thoughts ran through Doan's mind as he began his sleep period of stasis, slowly letting his processes wind down to their minimal levels. Like usual, those thoughts remained his, untouched and unseen by the world around him.

A storm of uncertainty still raged within him. But moments of peace came, and made it bearable.

A few seconds later, his door opened and a petite feminine figure strolled in, laying down beside him on the bed.

"Hey." Cleo said mutedly, waiting a few moments before stroking his arm. "So…what was the decision?"

"I'm staying." Doan said quietly, relaxing the muscles in his body.

Behind him, Cleo's eyes glimmered in the room's dim light. She wrapped her arms around his midsection and pulled him close. "I'm glad."

Wordlessly, Doan reached a hand behind his back, clasping it to the back of her head and pulling her in. He stretched his neck and kissed her deeply, slowly shifting his whole body until he was facing her.

The two kissed for a few moments more before sleep overtook them. And even in sleep, curled up against one another, they found peace.

Whatever the last thought on Doan's mind was before his final mental processes cut off…

It made him smile.

_MHHQ, Signas's(Cain's) Office_

_10:15 P.M.___

**To: Global Defense Council-Security Wing**

** From: Cmdr. Signas, Maverick Hunter Headquarters**

** Topic: The Future of the MHHQ**

**_To the Security Council of the GDC;_**

**_ I thank you for your recent E-Mail. Your congratulations are accepted, and you may rest assured that I will continue to lead operations just as efficiently._**

****

****Signas stopped typing for a moment, leaning back in his chair and setting a hand up to thoughtfully stroke his chin. It had taken him a long time to think over exactly what he would say in reply…even longer to finally work up the nerve. And the end result of all that, of the powerful internal struggle within himself concluded at this moment. He leaned forward again and continued to type.

**_The Maverick Hunters have served a vital role since their foundation; the capture and nullification of dangerous 'Maverick' forces. Founded by James Cain, the MHHQ represented a last bastion of hope for a troubled earth during the early days of the Maverick Wars, as some now call the time period from 2118 to present day. _**

**_ James Cain's methods, as unusual as they were, kept a professional military force always on call. More than that, his methods of recruitment, completely voluntary, maintained that the Hunters who were there wanted to be there, and would fight for more than money…although that particular angle certainly didn't hurt matters._**

**_ Until his death, Cain had always been a primary advocate for the advancement of the rights of reploids, a role that was not always appreciated. However, inquire to any Maverick Hunter as to what sort of person the elderly human was, and you will receive the response that he was a true father figure, a person who always looked out for his children. And even more than that, he allowed them many freedoms that they would not receive anywhere else._**

**_ This freedom that Cain allowed the Hunters here on their home base had many effects. But key among them is that they can remain sane. Despite what some citizens of Earth may think, the Maverick Hunters are not a peacekeeping force, so much as a multifaceted army. This is a war we're fighting, a war against the Mavericks. While there are lulls here and there, the truth of the matter is that this life and profession is a dangerous one. _**

**_ Cain gave the Maverick Hunters their freedoms so that despite the burdens of the job, they might still hold onto some semblance of a life. The more I am around the Maverick Hunters, the more I realize how sorely missed his presence is, and how quickly this place could fall apart._**

**_ In your letter, you wrote that with but a word from my office, you could bring the MHHQ deeper into GDC control. I am pleased to inform you all that this procedure is not needed._**

**_ The Maverick Hunters have succeeded in overcoming their latest trial with my assistance. I am confident that they are the fighting force so much legend makes them to be, and I am sure that the role they serve will continue to be needed. Their way of doing things may not be GDC standard operations, this is sure, but it nonetheless works, and works well._**

**_ To use a small colloquialism, 'why mess with a good thing?' The Hunters have proven to me that they are capable of seeing to their own affairs with the minor level of control that the GDC Main Branch has over them. I would be hard pressed to find a more dedicated, more capable, and more responsible group of warriors anywhere in the world._**

**_ I shall continue to serve in my role as the General of the Maverick Hunters, as per my initial orders. As I understand those directives, all matters concerning the Maverick Hunters fall under my jurisdiction, much as Dr. James T. Cain had. This includes, of course, Cain Labs and all other Hunter subsidiary organizations._**

**_ You may look forward to a stable MHHQ and many years of safety from Maverick activities. I thank you for your concern and interest. I am happy to reiterate that your concerns, however, are unnecessary._**

**_ -Respectfully yours,_**

**_ Signas, General of Maverick Hunter Forces_**

The reploid stopped there, staring at the letter for several seconds. The letters rose from the screen in stark black text to the white background, hovering in midair.

Finally, he reached his hand down to the keyboard and pressed the send command. In a mere flicker of compliance, the letter vanished into cyberspace, bound for Amsterdam.

"Do what's right…" Signas said quietly to himself, turning his head about and smiling at Sigma II, who continued to calmly swim in his unorthodox goldfish bowl. "I think I'm beginning to understand how these Maverick Hunters can think the way they do, Tuey."

The goldfish burbled a bit at the new nickname, but didn't move out of his swimming pattern.

Signas leaned back in the offices' chair, looking at the ceiling for a moment before winking to heaven, in the off-chance that if Cain was there, he might look down and smile.

The calculating reploid shut his eyes then, allowing himself to doze off in the midst of an emotion he had never experienced before…perhaps not a true emotion, as much as a state of mind. Here, in the office he finally felt comfortable calling home, with a legacy he felt capable of continuing, and with a future that no longer seemed dismal, he decided that there was only one way to describe it.

Signas was at peace.

And it sure felt good.

_MHHQ__Memorial Park___

_11:30 A.M.__June 30th, 2131 A.D._

It was an unusual assembly that a fair sized chunk of the Maverick Hunters came to in the warm summer sun. Not a cloud dared show its face, leaving a sparkling blue sky that seemed to laugh at all below. The Memorial Park of the MHHQ, situated on its northern side, had typically been held as a place of reverence, of respect and silent mourning for those who had passed on to greener pastures.

All present could easily say that what was transpiring on this brilliant day was unlike anything that had happened in recent memory. Some of the older veterans of the facility laughed, their eyes alight with the fire of the ritual. They could remember this particular event, but it had been years since it was last performed. Perhaps that was because humans had been slowly phased out of the corps by their own volition. And typically, it was only humans that clung to this social function.

It must have looked odd to the casual observer. Maverick Hunters stood on either side of a long carpeted walkway that led up to the front of Cain's grave. A small platform had been erected in front of it, where an unusually clothed Mega Man X, now in purple and white robes with his hair dancing freely in the wind. He wore a smile on his face for many reasons…but perhaps the main one being that this particular role was one that he'd never been asked to perform before. Cain had handled them all before. It seemed fitting to do it in the old man's presence.

In fact, all present looked ready for a snapshot. Those who could recall their armor had done so and now wore tuxedos and conservative dresses, and those that could not had gotten their battle gear freshly repaired and polished.

No woman there looked more stunning than Bristol, who was being led down the aisle by a smiling Julius Kinnian Horn, dressed typically enough in a sparkling orange tuxedo with the arm sleeves cut off. This caused many stares, but not so much as the fact he was wearing sandals. Even for this most formal occasion, it seemed, Horn could not part with the Hawaiian shirt lifestyle he had become accustomed to. As for Bristol, she was dressed all in white fabric, layered so perfectly that it seemed almost as if the dress had been poured on her. A light lace veil came down over her face, shrouding it from view. Even Horn had a difficult time seeing that underneath, she was beaming.

Up near the front, Bastion stood by the platform, nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back again. His own garb wasn't westernized at all, as he had chosen to wear celebratory garb from his homeland. The brightly colored fabrics danced around him, making him look fit for any Arab princes' court. For the time, he had somehow managed to tie his ruffled hair back into some semblance of a braid. His heart was pounding, of course. He had even managed to get it to tick in time with the music, played by one of the more musically minded 'techs. The march was classic enough, and that wasn't helping his courage any.

Finally, Horn and Bristol made it to Bastion and X. Horn took Bristol's hand and set it in Bastion's, giving them both a supportive pat on the back and a smile before turning to the side and walking to join Allegro, who stood patiently at the front left of the assembly. As if he was in a dream, Bastion reached his hands towards Bristol's face, pushing the veil up and over her head.

The sun seemed to shine a little brighter at that moment, as she tilted her head up to look at him, and her smile somehow increased. In that fraction of an instant, all of Bastion's fears evaporated, and he smiled back.

Hand in hand, Bristol and Bastion turned to face X. Shortly thereafter, the music reached its conclusion, fading away the final strains.

X raised his hands, and quiet fell over the whispering crowd. He smiled at them all, then cleared his throat. "Be seated." Everyone took X's orders, easing back into the white lawn chairs that had been freshly replicated.

"Well, there's something traditional I'm supposed to say right now to get this thing started…but for the life of me, I can't remember right now."

Several patches of laughter broke out here and there, then settled down. X chuckled a bit. "But I assume we all know why we're here. And thank God it's not for what we usually do." He added, his voice taking a more somber lilt.

Several nods of agreement appeared, but it was generally quiet.

"To my memory, Doctor Cain always handled these kinds of things." X continued. "That's why we're doing it here. Not to mention there's something about the month of June, the outside, and this particular social event that seem to fit together so nicely. So I suppose before I continue, I'd best introduce these two, eh?"

He motioned towards them. "We didn't know you for long, Bristol, but somehow you made this place a little brighter. I'm glad that you were able to return back, however briefly that time was. And wherever you go from here, go with our blessings and our best wishes. As for you, Bastion…" X clicked his tongue for a few moments before continuing. "A year and some ago, I recommended you for command of your own Unit after that messy affair in the Fifth Uprising. You held all the talents necessary to be a great leader, and I'll stand by my decision to this day. You are truly one of the best Hunters ever to come into this place…and sadly, one of the best to leave it. I'm sorry that you are leaving, but I know I can't change your mind about it. So like Bristol, I want you to go out there with my fond regards."

X turned towards the attendees and raised his voice. "One of the greatest things that two people can find in this life is love. Somehow, these two found it. With all that goes wrong in this world, with everything that we seek to correct, love is a reminder of something better beyond the dirt and the blood and the suffering. Love is one of those almost undefinable qualities that drives people to do crazy things, and can be said by those who have it to be one of the vital components of a meaningful existence. Some would even say it's THE most vital component. And when a love like the one that Bastion and Bristol have found comes along, the two people who share it want to show the world how much that love means. That's why we're gathered here today. So these two can, like so many millions of couples before our time, tie the knot."

X looked around the pavilion for a moment, lifting an eyebrow. "Man, I hate doing this next part…especially with you guys." He grumbled halfheartedly. "Can anyone here think of a reason why these two shouldn't get hitched?"

From somewhere in the back, Jad flung his arm up. "I got one!! She deserves better, like me!!"

Several peals of laughter echoed out from that comment before Bristol turned about, laughing at it. "Sorry to disappoint you, Jad. But maybe I like my men a little plain."

Jad let out a disappointed sigh before sitting back down. X waved his arms about to slow the chatter, then rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase that. Does anyone have a GOOD reason why these two shouldn't get hitched?"

Finally, a respectful silence arose. X nodded with satisfaction. "Thought so. Well then, let's continue."

A ways away from the grand wedding, Willow sat on the roof of the MHHQ's main building, one leg dangling over the side and the other propped up with her arm braced on it. Her green eyes focused down on the proceedings with hawkish intensity, and her free hand ran lazy circles on the concrete surface she sat on.

She didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind. The first indication of company came when he spoke.

"Funny. Why aren't you down there with them? I would have thought Bristol would make you a lady in waiting." Wycost prodded in amusement.

Willow smiled a bit, continuing to look down as the Bronx Bomber plopped down beside her, setting an object on his far side. "She tried, laddie. She tried. But that's one thing I couldn't bring meself to do. I like my privacy too much, and something like that's way too open." She gave him a quick sideways glance. "And what about you?"

"Bastion wanted me to be the best man for a bit…I managed to convince him otherwise." Wycost shrugged, ignoring Willow's snort. "I consider those two very dear friends, but the simple fact of the matter is that there's almost nobody down there in the audience that really remembers me all that fondly anymore. Maybe it's for the best…makes it easier to sever ties."

"You know, they're crazy." Willow remarked blandly, waving her free arm towards the wedding. "Who ever heard of reploids getting married?"

"Why not?" Wycost countered with a shrug. "People get married because they love each other. Children are just a necessary side effect of the union. With reploids, maybe it's purer because of that."

"Why, because we can feel love, but can't make it?"

"Yep. No wonder I drink so much." Wycost said with a smirk. Willow giggled a bit, rocking in her seat.

"You sure you're not Irish?"

"Only half, my dear." Wycost said with an easy reply.

Subconsciously, he reached his hand down and laid it on the cement until it bumped into hers.

Shyly, she positioned her hand closer, until he gently picked it up and held her hand in his own. She looked over at him for a moment, comforted by his reassuring smile. It was then she noticed the strange object beside him…a picnic cooler.

"What's in that thing?" She asked quietly. Wycost turned his head back towards the Memorial Park and smiled.

"Patience, Willow. Patience. It isn't time yet."

Below, the wedding continued, its attendants unaware of the two reploids watching from afar.

"Marriage is a contract between two people. It is symbolic of the depths of their love for one another, and their commitment to that union. Nowadays, this is a rare thing indeed. But it still happens, and when it does, it is cause for celebration. Before friends and before whatever higher power we choose to believe in, they have come here today for just that purpose." X coughed a bit before continuing. "If you two have wedding vows, you may exchange them now."

Bastion looked at Bristol for a long while before finally speaking. "I don't know who I have pleased in my life to find such an angel as you waiting for me. But I really don't care. The fact is that you are here, and you chose to love me. I never want to lose that, Bristol. I never want to lose you again. So stay by my side, and let me always be there to take care of you."

Bristol looked back at him, squeezing his hand tighter as she spoke up. "The first time I saw you, I had forgotten who I was, save my name alone. In those troubled times, it was you who guided me, became my support and my second spirit. You helped me overcome everything…and even when I left in search of my lost life, you never lost faith. You have always been a knight in shining armor to me, Bastion. But now you are more than that. You are my life itself, the reason I stay strong. I would be stupid to ever think about letting you go. So yes…stay with me. As long as I have you with me, I can face anything."

Whoops and hollers arose, along with several powerful cheering whistles. X quieted them all down again, although his smile became less reserved from the infectious good moods sifting around the room.

"Well, if that doesn't deserve an Oscar for overdramatics, I don't know what does anymore." X said, kicking off even more laughter. "Now then, the important part of this whole shebang."

"In sight of friends and deities of our choosing, we have come here today to witness the union of these two. Bristol, do you take Bastion to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, 'till death do you part, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Came the radiant reply.

"And do you, Bastion, take this exceptional specimen of feminine beauty who calls herself Bristol to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, 'till death do you part, as long as you both shall live?"

"I most certainly will." Came Bastion's retort, along with a silly grin.

"Well then…whoops, almost forgot something!" X corrected himself quickly, turning his head up. "Where's the Ring Boy?!"

"Coming!!" Came the frantic voice from far behind in the pavilion, accompanied by loud and plodding footsteps. Everyone turned and laughed as a flustered Hazil, his tuxedo slightly distressed, raced up the aisle with a grimace of indignation on his face, a tiny gray velvet covered box in hand.

"Damn, I didn't know you could run!" Came a voice from the crowd, triggering even more laughter.

Hazil finally reached the front, taking several calming breaths before shaking his head. "Sorry I'm late…these things are murder to get into. Guess I've spent way too much time in lab smocks, eh?" He lifted the box up on the flat of his palm, then opened the lid. "But here ya go, you two. Made to order."

Inside sparkled two plain bands of platinum, one slightly smaller than the other.

Bastion reached inside, gingerly picking up the smaller ring before lifting Bristol's right hand up and slipping it gently onto her ring finger. Likewise, Bristol reached into the box and pulled out Bastion's ring, setting it onto his ring finger as well. Hazil snapped the empty box shut, then nodded at them.

"Good luck, you two." He said, before turning around to go sit by Horn and a snickering Allegro.

The two turned to face Mega Man X again, who lifted his arms up and cleared his throat one last time. "The rings have been exchanged, and so have the vows. And so, there is but one thing left for me to do. By the power vested in me from the good faith of The Maverick Hunters, and the spirit of our late founder, Doctor James T. Cain, I now pronounce you two lucky ducks man and wife." X lowered his hands and grinned to no end. "Now kiss the bride, you silly bastard."

Bastion turned Bristol around, staring deeply into her eyes for the eternity of a few seconds before lowering his head down and capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss she ardently returned. And then the cheers erupted.

Off on the side, Pugs, the Bartender from _The Last Round_ tapped open a massive keg of ale. "THE BAR'S OPEN!!" He called out, triggering the previous cheers to swell up to new heights.

Bastion pulled away from Bristol for a moment, shutting his eyes as he warped his clothes away for his armor, which had been fully polished and repaired as well. In a swift motion, the wings of his Angels' Advantage Flight Armor swung out into their ready mode, and he walked back to Bristol before picking her up in his arms and lifting them off of the ground effortlessly. As those in attendance stood, cheering and clapping, Bastion hovered up into the air a bit more, smiling to no end as he cradled Bristol against him.

Close to the back of the assembly, the surviving members of the 21st Unit lined up on either side of the red carpet. Gavin was at the front of them, along with Jad and Kol. Standing proudly in their field best, the Unit snapped their feet together. Gavin lifted his head up, smiling just as much as any of them before bellowing out his cry.

"Present ARMS!" Came his shout. Every member of the 21st raised their Busters and sabers aloft, holding them at a diagonal angle over the return road, then froze. Gavin turned towards Bastion and offered one final salute, with his smile that was both happy and sad.

Bristol in his arms, Bastion soared down the red carpet, mere inches above the ground with his new wife laughing as they went. At the end of the carpet, they passed underneath the gauntlet of the 21st Unit, then swept up and shot into the clear blue skies above, as the Hunters underneath continued to cheer, then headed for Pugs and the refreshments table.

Wycost finally opened the cooler, pulling out a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses. Willow looked at him for a moment, smiling a bit. "And just who did you have to bribe to get those?"

"Pugs remembered who I was. And he's a decent enough fella to supply alcohol on such festive occasions." Wycost answered back with a smile, popping the bottle's cork and pouring the bubbling liquid into each glass. He calmly handed her a glass before setting the bottle back down inside the cooler, sipping back on his own.

Willow wrinkled her nose after the first sip. "I'd forgotten that some of this stuff tickles."

"Most of the hooch I'm accustomed to burns on the way down." Wycost mused, swirling the liquid around. "Stuff like this is a welcome break."

"I suppose that change is good, every now and then." Willow said quietly, taking another sip from her glass.

"Yeah. I suppose it is." Wycost mused, shaking his head. "Was it good for us?"

Willow looked over at him, the tension drained out of her face after what had seemed like an eternity of pent up feelings. She only smiled in response to his question before turning back and looking towards the wedding.

"You're far too much like me for your own good, you know. Why do we choose to avoid such public spectacles?"

Wycost shrugged in reply, scooting closer towards her. "Maybe we just don't like the spotlight. Then again, maybe we've lived in the shadows for so long that for as much as we curse them, we can't go without them to some extent. But I'm not complaining. My friends know how to reach me if they need to…and not being in the limelight is something that's always helped."

"Do you think what we're planning to do is crazy?"

"Oh, definitely." Wycost answered easily. "I have no doubt that at some level, we're off of our rockers to some small extent. But we have to do it, Willow."

"I have to, and Bristol has to. The rest of you didn't."

"…No, I suppose we didn't." Wycost admitted after a pause. "But would you have it any other way?"

"No." Willow chuckled quietly. "I suppose not…things would get too lonely."

"Didn't think so." Wycost smirked. "Next question. Do we stand a chance?"

"We took out MI9 HQ…the very heart of their operations. And together, we fought long and hard to keep the future safe. Will it be harder from this point on? I have no doubt of that. But I'll tell ye one thing, laddie." Willow said, finishing her champagne in one quick gulp. "We've got a good group of people standing with us. And for once, the world doesn't seem so dark. Maybe fate's decided to stop giving me the short end of it, but things seem like they'll turn out all right."

"Yes. But nobody can know what we do for them…and nobody's ever going to sing praises for our actions."

"The price I suppose we have to pay." Willow shrugged. "But considering how much we like the shadows, that doesn't bother me."

Wycost reached an arm around her waist and pulled her next to him. "Doesn't bother me either."

Willow leaned on his shoulder, smirking as she looked up at the figures dancing in the sky. "I wonder about those two some days."

"What about?"

"Just how they can be so happy…and how up there, right now, nothing else matters. Not tomorrow, not the future…not whether or not this Scion's Zenith thing will turn out all right. All that they see in front of them is happiness and bliss, and exhilaration."

"Is that so wrong?" Wycost queried, staring up towards Bastion and Bristol. "Everyone is entitled to happiness in their life. They've found theirs in each other. Don't tell me you haven't found some measure of solace as well in your life." His hand went up, slowly stroking through her hair. "Tomorrow will come when it must…but for now, life can be enjoyed. Laughter can happen. And love…"

Willow scruffed his hair before releasing the last of the tension in her body.

"I suppose we can let love take over." She said quietly, resting all her weight on him.

Wycost flipped down his glasses and let her rest her head in the crook between his arm and chest.

_I don't know what the future holds…_

_ But as long as it's with you…_

_ I will walk through any fire, and see all troubles through._

Up above, Bastion pulled Bristol close to him, laughing as he did. In reply came a sudden wetness on his shoulder as she rested her head there.

Bastion pulled her back a bit, looking at her in concern.

"Is something wrong?"

Tears shining in her eyes, Bristol reached a hand up to her face, pushing aside the liquid in her blurry optics. She looked down at the ring on her finger, and the ring on his…then slowly fingered the silver locket she once again wore around her neck.

Symbols of love, all of them…Love for a man who would give anything for her, who would never betray her. Love for her guardian angel, given form beyond heaven.

"Nothing's wrong." She finally said, kissing him on the nose. "For once…everything's right."

_Perhaps tomorrow is uncertain, perhaps it scares me to think that way,_

_ But for now, I have my peace, upon this picture perfect day…_

"It isn't the wedding I think you were expecting, though." Bastion prodded teasingly. Bristol laughed at that.

"No, mine was far more boring. I have to say I like the improvement…but there's just one thing missing."

"Oh, what's that?"

Calmly, Bristol held aloft the bridal bouquet, which she had held since the very beginning of the ceremony in her free hand. She gave him a playful grin, then with careful aim, threw the amassed flowers down towards the crowds of Maverick Hunters below. They drifted down without a care in the world, leisurely sliding back and forth along invisible air currents, flailing petals out in all directions as it continued down.

The thronging masses reacted wildly to it…all the women rushing towards it, and all the men suddenly finding a sudden urge to refill their tankards at the bar.

In the broad daylight of a perfect June wedding, Bristol's eyes danced with their own laughter. In Bastion's arms, she pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck before reaching her head up to him for a kiss to end all kisses.

_I didn't know what it meant to live, until you came and smiled at me,_

_ Held in your arms, I now know love, now in your arms, my soul is free…_

It was an event that would not be forgotten about for many months to come. In the passion of such a positive event, all else faded.

Some old friends were leaving. And others were dead to begin with. But those that remained did not fall into sorrow. In a celebration of life, the MHHQ seemed to regain a spark of itself.

It was in the hopes and dreams of the angels that danced in the sky.

It was in the consolation and redemption found by two scarred souls in each other that sat atop the hallowed structure.

It was in the warriors who forgot for a time the low points of their life, and discovered something better, something pure, and something worth fighting for beyond loyalty to nation and cause.

It was in the eyes of a hero who stood by the grave of the man he called his second father, who seemed to smile knowingly towards the core building, and to the figure in red who leaned against it and offered a similar smile and knowing wave.

And it was all around them, in the air, in the sky, and in the trees and grass that grew to freedom.

_I'll remember this place, this home I had, in times of sorrow and in glad._

_ I'll remember the people I leave behind, even as I go on to find…_

_ Something more, something undone. Before the setting of the sun_

_ I make a promise, I answer this plea, There is something else that I can be._

_ And I'll work for a place, and I'll dream of a land_

_ Where suffering's gone and there is no strife…_

_ For I see it now, returned to this place…_

_ The force, the spark…_

_ The beauty…_

_ Of life._


	23. Epilogue: Zenith's Dream

****

**_MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST_**

By Erico

EPILOGUE: ZENITH'S DREAM

_7:24 P.M. Citadel of the late Dr. Sergei Cossack_

_July 1st, 2131_

            From a distance, the structure looked small and unimportant. Surrounded by miles of wilderness and unpopulated land, it also seemed incredibly out of place. The design was outdated, and the external technology was undeniably obsolete. Or, at least, what could be seen on the outside.

            To avoid the slightest chance of detection on any nation or organization's warp logs, which Willow and Bristol both assumed to be active and ready by whatever MI9 agents that remained, they had come here on an old fashioned hovertransport. Slow, but it got the job done and kept their relocation secret.

            Wycost stepped on the fragile grass and rocky soil of the Siberian wilderness, staring towards the Citadel with an emotionless gaze. "So this is home." He turned to look at Willow, noting her similarly blank face. "Looks lived in." He finished with a shrug.

            Allegro snorted from his position, five steps from the hovertransport. "Looks run down to me."

            "Hey, don't insult the place." Pharaoh Man growled, staring beyond the partly cloudy horizon. "Cossack's Citadel is a great place, and it and I and the rest of the guys in there have been around longer than your combined aged. Plus, you get a great view out here." He motioned towards the skyline, and the pink and purple sunset that ran over them. As some stood by the deactivated hovertransport and others from the "Scion's Zenith" continued to pile out, they all looked at the sunset, quietly absorbing the surroundings.

            "A storm's coming." Bastion said quietly, pulling closer to Bristol and resting an arm on her shoulder. Horn cleared his throat over by the passenger side door with a smile.

            "That's a rather lame quote to borrow." Bastion looked over at his former nemesis with a half smile.

            "What, you think you can do better?"

            "I can." Willow finally spoke up. Everyone turned to look at her. "It's said that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. MI9 is alive and well, despite our victories. We're not safe, and the world's not safe until we've done away with them. It's only begun. Now the true storm can arrive."

            "You always did spoil the mood at the Christmas Party." Bristol chirped, bobbing her hair out of her face. Willow folded her arms.

            "You can remember that much now?" In response, Bristol only smiled.

            "I swear, we all have to be crazy for doing this." Hazil growled. "Old coots like us, trying to save the world. It's almost…" He shook his head. "Forget it. But nobody dies in the first month, all right?"

            "Oh, you know you'd never let us croak." Wycost heckled his doctor. "Hell, you never let me stay infected."

            Willow looked at Wycost, lifting an eyebrow. "You were a Maverick?" She grunted in surprise.

            Bastion laughed. "That's right, you're the new face here. Give it time, you'll get used to us."

            Horn shrugged at that. "I'm not sure if I'm used to all of you yet." He turned towards Willow, keeping his good humor. "But I agree…this is a good bunch of people you've landed in, ma'am. Your mission is ours as well now."

            Willow smirked, shaking her head. "I don't think I could ever ask for a better team…More and more, you all prove my theories about this world wrong."

            "That's refreshing to hear." Allegro mused, stepping up to the front of the pack and beginning to walk towards the Citadel, some ways distant still. "A person who doesn't mind having their world perspective messed with."

            "Some perspectives need to be, I would think." Pharaoh Man said, taking up stride with the energetic reploid. "I'm glad that mine has changed…Life was boring before this world came knocking."

            Hazil frowned for a moment, then lifted an eyebrow before running towards Pharaoh Man. "Hold on a second!!" He cried out after the robot, who stopped and turned to look at him oddly. "X…Zero…They know where this place is, right?"

            Pharaoh Man nodded his head coldly. "Yes they do. Your point?"

            "What if they discover us?"

            "Oh, I don't believe they will." Pharaoh Man said amiably. "Cossack's Citadel saw many renovations over the years, and the core schematics that Wily used were nothing, if not paranoid. Only select parts of the facility are open for public examination…And X and Zero only know about the depths of the Fourth Ring, otherwise. Trust me; since the 29th of June, my brothers have been hard at work renovating the unused sectors for use by the Zenith. It will all be ready for us. And as long as you all are willing to have some modicum of caution in the aforementioned areas…then we should have no problems at all."

            "Just like you to think of everything." Horn said appreciatively, running up to join them. Wycost and Willow continued along at their leisurely pace, and Bastion and Bristol lagged along with the other couple.

            Pharaoh Man smiled. "I was, after all, a robot once."

            Horn lifted an eyebrow before recognition set in. "Of course…I'd forgotten about that."

            Hazil patted Pharaoh Man on the back, smiling at him. "Will there be a welcoming committee when we finally get there?"

            "Oh, yes." Phare replied drily. "Kalinka has been hard at work making welcome baskets for all of you."

            "Serious?"

            "No." Phare answered back. "But she did make sure you all have your own room…save Bristol and Bastion, who share one."

            "That was thoughtful of her." Bastion complimented his new teammate. Pharaoh nodded.

            "What can I say? She's taken a liking to you all." The former Robot Master said matter-of factly.

            Wycost looked up at the horizon above the Citadel, blinking through his sunglare goggles at the sky that bled purple and pink. The faded rays of sunlight came down on the majestic metallic spires of the castle, making the legacy of Cossack glitter in the twilight.

            "We'd better get inside soon, guys. It looks like the sun's going to set a little faster than we'd like."

            "The weather here operates on its own principles." Pharaoh Man shot back. "Right now, it may be teasing us…But you are right about one thing. Eventually it will set, and temperatures here in Siberia, even in summer, take a noticeable dip come nightfall."

            "You know, it's funny." Allegro said thoughtfully. "In a way, you could compare the weather here to the world in relation to us."

            "Oh, I doubt that we're being left out in the cold, if that's what you're aiming at." Horn joked. "And if you're going to use the horizon as a metaphor for our condition…I'd say that our nightfall is far from imminent."

            "You're such an optimist." Willow said sarcastically.

            Hazil shrugged. "Hey, let the man be. In my experience, I've tried everything else. Maybe optimism is just the trick we need anymore."

            Wycost gently squeezed Willow's arm, and her stern frown softened into resignation. "I suppose…Hell, I'll try anything once."

            Pharaoh Man exhaled a long breath. "Coming back here, breathing this air…for as cold as it is, it's also invigorating. It renews me. Perhaps it will do the same for all of you."

            In the back, Bastion and Bristol watched the others' conversations with mild interest and knowing smiles.

            "You couldn't have asked for a better crew to walk with you on this mission, you know that." Bastion said quietly.

            Bristol giggled a bit. "No, I couldn't. But do you want to know what makes me the happiest about them?"

            Bastion shrugged his shoulders.

            "It's not that they're all capable in their fields…be they warrior, designer, or doctor, although that certainly helps." She said. "What fills me with hope is the fact that they _care._ They came of their own volition to do this. If we had wanted to, we could have just decided to leave MI9 as it was after Ice Beacon…and to return to some semblance of a former life. But we didn't. Somehow, we all decided to do this."

            "Mmmhmm." Bastion mumbled, squeezing her hand, and the ring that she now wore on it. "So let me ask you; is this the right thing?"

            "It's the necessary thing." Bristol said quietly. "Right or wrong…those are principles decided on by society. If the world knew what we were doing, if the Maverick Hunters knew what we intended to do, they might consider our actions wrong. Some would qualify them as right. In my mind, what we are intending to do…the purpose for the Zenith's creation, that's right. And I consider it necessary. If MI9 had succeeded, what they would have accomplished would have been, at the first, a direct attack on every last reploid on Earth. But after that, they would have caused a collapse of the world as we know it. What we did was for everyone. And I pray that the day never comes that the world ever has to know what we did."

            "If we do this right, kiddo…" Bastion mused, "It'll never have to come to that."

            Bristol smiled. "My optimism must be infectious."

            "Good moods usually are." Bastion replied.

            He swept her up into his arms again, prompting a surprised yelp from her. "What are you doing?" She asked him quickly, even as he activated his wings and shot off over their teammates' heads towards the Citadel.

            Bastion smiled even wider as he approached the base, pulling her closer against him. "Well, I believe there's a tradition where the groom carries his bride over the threshold…"

            Below, Horn laughed as they shot overhead, slapping his knee as he continued to walk. "I swear, those two…Don't drop her now, you hear me, Bastion?"

            Hazil smirked, placing an arm on the other old reploid's shoulder. "Somehow, I doubt that he could ever do that."

            "Their heads are way too far in the clouds to plummet now, I'm afraid." Willow agreed. Wycost chuckled in agreement, even as Allegro scratched at his head.

            "So what are we gonna do first when we get there? I say we make ourselves a hero sandwich or two…"

            Slowly, Pharaoh Man began to lag behind the rest of them, watching with smiling eyes as the members of the Scion's Zenith forged on ahead towards their new home. He watched them walk hand in hand and with smiles and laughs all around. In their circle stood love and hope and faith. In each other, and if not for their cause, for the good that cause did.

            A part of him still wondered just how useful, how integral he was to the Zenith, to the rest of them. He wasn't a reploid, and for as powerful as his weaponry was, he still had a long way to go before he could call himself anywhere near as reliable a warrior as Bastion or Wycost or even Willow. He had no past lives with them, and aside from Hazil, his knowledge of them and vice versa didn't extend nearly far enough.

            But then, that part of him wasn't the spark of spirit that had allowed him to overcome Mind Freeze…to survive his transformation beyond his former pure robotic self. He looked down at his hand, flexed his digits and stared at the white gloves.

            Underneath those gloves was a soft layer of neurosensitive rubber, and a harder metal alloy underneath that protected the vital sensory relays and power feeds to his plasmic Pharaoh Shot generators in his hands and wrists. His hands were cold in the Siberian wilderness, as they always were, incapable of producing heat that a human did just to maintain homeostasis. They were metallic…robotic…inhuman.

            But his hand was only a part of him, Pharaoh Man reminded himself. And it wasn't the part that made him the proudest of what he was, and who he was.

            He could call himself simply Pharaoh Man, a Robot Master, a relic of the 21st Century.

            But he did not want to. No. Now…now, and perhaps forever, there was another part to him.

            The part who went by the name Phare…Phare Cossack.

            Pharaoh Man would have hidden away in the Citadel until the end of his days, quietly running routines and mindless maintenance.

            But Phare had fought a battle for all reploidkind. Phare had kept the world safe.

            For all the doubts he had about his new teammates, about the validity of the Zenith, and whether or not they would succeed…

            Pharaoh Man knew that he had fulfilled his father's legacy. Even now, as the final rays of sunlight came down and lit up the metallic spires and walls, he could imagine his creator's spirit still inhabiting this place. And if Sergei Cossack was indeed here, watching him still…

            He was smiling.

            So Pharaoh Man smiled back, holding a fist to his metallic heart for a long moment and looking towards the spires of his home.

            "This place, like myself…still has some use to it." He said quietly, beginning to walk faster again to catch up to the excitable reploid companions he had gained. "The dream hasn't yet truly begun."

            Eight figures went towards Cossack's Citadel in that wilderness. Two flew, and the other six walked. And even as they walked towards nightfall, and towards the coming darkness…

            They still went closer and closer to the home of dreams.

_2:24 A.M.__ MHHQ Memorial Park_

_July 2nd, 2131 A.D._

            Cain's grave in the memorial park was hallowed ground. An honor guard still stood by it, but a respectable enough distance away to allow visitors some measure of privacy. Even this late at night, a vigilant Maverick Hunter, Guernica waited by it, drinking a thermos of black coffee to keep himself awake. Guernica took one look at the late night visitor to the grave and nodded in salute as the figure passed him, then smiled before taking another sip of his beverage.

            Zero brushed his ponytail back before reaching into his coat and pulling out an aged bottle of fine brandy, setting it down by the countless wilted roses that were strewn around the deceased's headstone.

            "I thought you might prefer something a little more tangible than weeds." Zero mumbled, smiling a bit as he stood back up and placed his hands into the pockets of his black trenchcoat. "As I recall, you had a liking to this stuff…Hell, you had a liking to anything with an alcoholic content higher than 80 proof." He added with a chuckle. "So wherever ya are, padre, I want you to take this shit and slug back a few rounds for me and the boys here."

            Cain's grave, predictably enough, said nothing. Zero sighed and leaned against the headstone, finally collapsing on the ground with his back pressed up on Cain's monument. "I swear, some days I need a shrink, and not because of my job. It's because I talk to tombstones now."

            "X has probably already talked to you about what's gone on recently…Hell, remember what he was like early on before the First Uprising?? He'd run to ya for the damndest things. 'Oh, Cain, my bunny slippers' ear fell off!' or some other thing like that." Zero mimicked the Blue Bomber of 21XX. "So I imagine that you already know that I kicked the unholy bejeezus outta Sigma." Zero rubbed at his eyes. "Not one of my prouder moments in life, I'm sorry to say. I suppose I kind of lost it."

            "For a while…nothing mattered. I lost myself. You were gone. Iris was dead because of Sigma…again. And Hazil, Hell, he up and retired from this place."

            The Crimson Hunter sighed. "Although I can understand Hazil. This place can get to you after a while. And he dealt with success and defeat on a level that's far less ambiguous than X and I do out on the fields."

            "But it figures he'd have something to say to me before he went. And I guess he had something to say to X as well." Zero tilted his head over his shoulder and clicked his tongue. "X and I…for a while, things were weird. But he came back to me, and showed me something. As long as we've got each other, we can get through anything. That's what friends are for, right?"

            The monument remained stonily silent. Zero thinned his eyes and smirked a bit. "Aaw, Hell. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore, Cain. I never was much of a conversationalist. X was a damn lawyer for a brief span of time. All I really know how to do on any tangible level is kill things. And even though I can't change that, I have enough faith in my friends, and myself, and their faith in me to make sure that those abilities of mine are never used wrongly."

            Zero stared at his hand. "Some days, Cain, I know you had your suspicions about me…and about my origins. Sigma never did tell you that I was the crazy red Maverick, did he? No, he just let you assume I was one of the survivors from the town that incident took place by. And even if you did know…you kept it to yourself. I was glad to call you my father, and you still are. You had faith in me. Faith that no matter what, I would do the right thing."

            "Signas isn't you, and you aren't Signas. We've all had to come to terms with that, but I think we have. He's not as bad as I once thought he would be…I just had to yell at him enough to wise up, was all. Once he figured out that how we do things works…for better or worse…he let go. I haven't asked him yet, but I have the feeling that if the GDC ever tries to harp on us, they'll find him glaring right back at them. After you passed on, we thought that the Hunters had lost their only advocate capable of protecting us from the bureaucrats." Zero smirked. "Leave it to Signas to prove us all wrong."

            A low breeze pushed by, and threatened to blow the Hunter's hair up into his eyes. He batted it aside carefully before smiling again.

            "Frankly, Cain, I really don't know which way things will go from here. Sigma…well, he'll be around for a while still. But I think his operations will be more low key from now on. After all, he may have a lot of those small bases, but they're still small. The GDC?? If Signas does his job right, they'll keep doing what they need to, and doing to us what you made sure they could accomplish; Absolutely dick."

            Zero picked himself up. "Yes, some things have changed around here since you left." He checked his collar and smiled. "But you know what, Cain? Some things never change."

            _And X and I…are two of those things._

            "Feeling better now?" Guernica said calmly, leaning on the stock of his magrifle as Zero approached him. The Crimson Hunter paused by the sniper specialist and lifted an eyebrow before Guernica smiled a bit again. "Hey, I think at some point we'll all go to talk to him. I was just asking ya if you were doing better than you were."

            Zero's expression softened. "Yeah, I am. And what about you?? You made the kill on Cumulus Bull, as I recall."

            "Not one of my cleaner ones, but yeah." Guernica nodded. "I just wish I'd gotten to him sooner, and saved some of the others."

            "Hell, we all have those kind of doubts from time to time."

            "Yup. The trick is to keep moving. Guilt only gets you one place, and I don't intend on going there." Guernica agreed. He looked down at his magrifle before shaking his head. "My shift still has another three or so hours on it. You have a good night, Commander."

            "You too, sureshot." Zero replied quietly, turning about and walking back towards the central building of the MHHQ.

            Zero didn't look back as he walked, for he no longer saw a reason to. He had made his peace with the world and with himself, and had remained intact.

            Perhaps the Virus would never truly leave him. Perhaps the temptation to slip into madness would always be there.

            But that didn't bother him then, as he left Cain's grave and prepared to enter the building he had called home for many years. He did not walk alone. He still had X…his best friend, his equal.

            And Hazil had been right, the Crimson Hunter surmised. Cain had been right.

            They had each other. And they always would.

            And as long as they had that…

            He could still sleep at night without ever having to worry about losing himself.

            In the quiet outskirts of New Tokyo, Zero stopped short of the hydraulic doors to the interior of the MHHQ's main building. He stared up to the sky above and to the twinkling stars, glimmering with atmospheric interference and the promise of hope.

            The Crimson Hunter smiled, letting his right arm hang free at his side as he walked into the building.

            Three hours later…

            The morning came.

            As it always would.

            As it always must.

            The sun remained, a symbol of hope and tranquility to restive souls. It brought tomorrow with it.

            And tomorrow…

            Hadn't been written yet.

            We fear shadows. They exist where light is present, reminding us that darkness is a part of life. From a certain perspective…it is as though the shadows come not from our bodies blocking the sun, but rather the darkness within us all being displayed.

            Yet there is nothing tangible to shadows. Shadows cannot harm us, they cannot strike us. No, at their best, shadows are only our inner demons, coaxing, taunting, and seeking to coerce ourselves towards self destruction.

            The shadows in Bristol's life were marked indeed…memories of a past that she and Willow had sought to forget, to protect themselves and the world. But they could not run from those shadows. Zero had his own demons as well…and to a smaller extent, every other spirit on Earth carried their burdens.

            In the end, their shadows, their demons, would not let them escape. After all, one cannot run from their shadow. It's always right behind them.

            Demons rise up from our own fears and weaknesses. And try as we might, we can never outrun them. Certainly, the world of Mega Man X found that their demons could not be forgotten.

            They would return, always. And there is the secret.

            You do not run from your demons. You turn around and you face them.

            So what then, of the future? It is an intangible thing, predictable only to a degree. It is the land of hopes and dreams and promises. Live in the present, look to the future…and remember the past.

            But do not fear it.

            The world would go on, knowing no other way to exist. Old soldiers and allies had been lost. Others had moved on to other venues…

            Some more dangerous, and more discreet.

            The core remained. And despite what some might say…

            Some things in life never change. We still live, and we still die. Existence has not changed much in a thousand years, in even two thousand years. Minor details at best.

            Somewhere in the world, someone smiles.

            Somewhere, someone cries.

            Somewhere, two lovers fall from climax into the afterglow of a bittersweet moment.

            Those things remain.

            The world went on, and the players of 21XX went with it.

            Only now, they marched forth, doubts waylaid and eyes fresh with hopes anew.

            Now, there was no fear of demons.

            For, truly…

            Who would ever need fear…

            The Demons of the Past?

            -END


End file.
